


Letras de Amor

by CharlotteAshmore



Series: Letras de Amor verse [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Triggers, Warnings Chapters 24 25 & 26
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 133,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: Maurice calls upon the Dark One to save his wife and daughter from certain death. Unable to save the queen, he vows to save the child. His price? On her eighteenth birthday he will come to claim her as his own. When she learns of the deal, she is only allowed to communicate with her betrothed through letters. Will she fall in love with him through their correspondence or will Maurice be able to find a way to break his deal with the Dark One?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
> 
> A/n: This is a re-posting of my fic ‘Love Letters’ which has been re-edited and re-named. I really hope you enjoy this. I'd like to thank you in advance for reading and if it's not too much to ask … please leave me a comment to let me know what you think. Love you all. I’m not working with a beta right now, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> And my heartfelt thanks to Emilie Brown for my gorgeous cover art!

 

          "WHERE IS HE?" Maurice Beaumont, King of Avonlea and its surrounding shires hissed angrily at Lord Smythe, Earl Lancaster and his most trusted friend and advisor, as he paced before the door leading into his bedchamber. His wife, Jeannette had been in labor - a rather difficult one if her midwife was to be believed - for more than twenty-eight hours and the king was frantic with worry.

          "Maurice, please, you must be patient. After all, this is the Dark One to whom you've sent your request. There really is no guarantee that he will come at all," the earl said softly as he swirled the whiskey in his goblet. He hadn't left the king's side since the queen had gone into labor and really, the alcohol wasn't helping, but it kept his hands busy. He wondered idly where Maurice got the energy for his endless pacing.

          "He has to come! The fairies, even our own sweet Marelle has said she can't interfere if Jeannette takes a turn for the worse. It would be against the natural order of things and the price would be more than we could pay to save her," the king said, running a beefy hand over his ruddy face in his anxiety. He couldn't lose his precious Jeannette. He doubted he'd survive her loss. And what of their child, the child they'd yearned for all these many years. She couldn't be snatched away from him now when they were so close to having their heart's desire.

          The earl breathed a weary sigh and rotated his neck on his shoulders, wincing as the bones cracked mercilessly. "I still don't think it wise to call on Rumpelstiltskin, Maurice. Even he might not be able to help. And if he does, how can you know he will not exact some exorbitant price you aren't willing to pay?"

"I will give him anything he desires to save my Jeannette," Maurice said vehemently, his voice breaking at the last over his love's name.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin kept to the shadows in the farthest corner of the sitting room, his cloak pulled about him like a shield and the hood pulled low over his face. He'd been watching the king for more than an hour as the man's desperation grew. He knew all too well of what was happening in the next room. The woman had already lost too much blood, her life force slipping away as she struggled to bring her daughter into the world. The child wasn't faring much better. There was nothing he could do for the queen, but perhaps he would be able to save the child if the king were willing to deal with him. The fairies were correct … for once. Nothing could save the queen; the price would be too high, and the only price would be a life in exchange for hers. He doubted seriously she would exchange her daughter's life for her own.

          Maurice whirled around as the door to his bedchamber opened and the midwife stepped into the sitting room, her face full of sympathy for her monarch. "I'm sorry, your majesty. The queen asks for you," she said, swallowing heavily around the lump of emotion threatening to choke her. "She wishes to say goodbye."

          "No!" Maurice wailed, striding past the woman and storming into the room to kneel at his wife's side, taking her limp hand in his and pressing a kiss to her fingertips. Tears streamed down his ashen face as he fought back the sobs which shook his barrel-like chest.

          "I'm sorry, my love. Sorry I wasn't st-stronger," the queen said weakly, the timbre of her voice barely more than a whisper.

          Maurice glanced down at the tiny wrapped bundle lying at his wife's side and felt his heart take flight in his chest. A thatch of chestnut curls, so like her mother's, clung wetly to the crown of her head and dark blue eyes which would surely lighten over time, stared up at him as she began to fuss. "No, love, it's not your fault. Everything will be alright."

          Jeannette drew a shaky breath and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Liar," she whispered with a fond smile. He never had been able to lie to his beloved, for she could always tell. "P-Promise me, my husband. Promise m-me you w-will watch over our little one. Our little Belle?"

          "Belle?" the king asked hesitantly as he gazed down at the child. "Is that what you wish to call her? She is quite a little beauty. The name is certainly fitting."

          "Yes. Our Belle. Promise m-me you'll always take … care …"

          "No, Jeannette, please. You will be here to watch over her yourself. Please, Jeannette, don't leave me. We need you, my darling," Maurice pleaded. "I love you."

          "L-Love you, hus…" Her voice faded as she took her last breath and her hand went slack in his grip.

          His daughter wailed, her cries echoing through the room as he gathered his beloved wife in his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck, begging her to come back, pleading with her not to leave him. How was he supposed to do this without her? The midwife lifted Belle from the bed and rocked her gently in her arms as the king grieved. She worried for the child as she noticed how off her color seemed.

          "There was nothing which could have been done for your wife, Sire," came a high-pitched voice from the doorway, one which sent an icy tingle of fear skittering up the king's spine.

          Gently, Maurice laid his lost love back against the pillows and whirled to point an accusing finger in the sorcerer's direction. "You! You could have saved her. There is nothing beyond your power and you refused to heed my call," he thundered, his tone saturated with pain and a healthy dose of rage.

          "And I assure you I could not," Rumpelstiltskin said, brushing his blackened nails lazily against the front of his cloak. What did he care for the loss of one noblewoman, another spoiled royal who lorded her position over the masses? The child, however, was a different story. He never could abide the suffering of children. "But there is no need to lose them both this day."

          Maurice paled as his gaze swung to the worried face of the midwife. "What of my daughter? Why would you say such a thing?"

          "She is frail, the birth was too strenuous. Even now she is fading," the imp said, tenting his fingers below his chin and leveling an inquisitive look at the king. "Now her … her I can save."

          Maurice took his daughter into his arms and saw for himself the bluish tinge to what should have been her rosy lips, her face pale and ashen, and her cries only half-hearted whimpers. He could see the truth of the Dark One's words with his own eyes. "Truly, you can save her?" he asked with the last shred of hope he bore in his soul. He couldn't lose them both. He was afraid the agony of his grief would destroy him. His precious daughter needed the chance to grow, to thrive … to live. For his Jeannette.

          Rumpelstiltskin nodded, a gleam of avarice in his eyes.

          "What is your price?" the king asked, the breath catching in his throat and his grip tightening on the fragile bundle in his arms as he waited for the Dark One's answer.

          "My price … is her, of course."

          The imp giggled, and Maurice felt his stomach flop over on itself, causing a wave of nausea to nearly choke him. "You would heal her just to take her from me? She's all I have left."

          Rumpelstiltskin's thin lips pursed as he arched a brow at the king. "And what would I do with her like that?" he asked, waving a hand in the babe's direction. "How many deals do you think I could make carting about a wee babe? I think not."

          "But you said —"

          "I know what I said! I didn't mean today. Even I won't be that cruel," he snapped testily. "No, she will be mine on her eighteenth birthday." He brightened, his overlarge amber eyes widening with glee. "As my bride."

          Maurice bristled, saying through clenched teeth, "No, absolutely not!"

          A smirk curled the imp's lips as he went in for the kill. "You would fail your twoo wuv by denying her last wish? You can't very well grant her request to look after her daughter if the wee babe doesn't survive because of your selfishness," he tittered, his hawk-like nose crinkling.

          "But—"

          Rumpelstiltskin cut him off. "You will have her for eighteen years, sire. At which time you would be looking to marry her off to some noble anyway."

          "Of course, I would. I would find her someone worthy of her, someone she could love, someone who would care for her and stand by her side as she takes her place on the throne," the king protested.

          Another giggle trilled through the room at the imp's obvious amusement. "And what makes you think she couldn't love me?"

          Maurice gaped in disbelief, but the imp waved him off. Instead he said, "I will not condemn her to a life of misery with you."

          Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes at the king. "I would never mistreat her. I may be a monster, but I would never dishonor those bound to me."

          Belle's breathing was becoming more and more labored the longer he haggled with the sorcerer and Maurice knew his time was running out. "You will leave her be for eighteen years, allow me to raise her?"

          "I will," Rumpelstiltskin assured him, rubbing the fingers of his left hand together in a nervous manner, feeling victory within his grasp.

          "You will not see her until it is time to claim her. I must insist upon that," the king insisted, his tone brooking no objection.

          "Done. Now, do we have a deal?"

          Maurice nodded. "Yes."

          Rumpelstiltskin produced a contract and quill and laid them out on the table next to the large four poster bed for the king to peruse and sign. He motioned for the monarch to hand him the babe and he lost his breath as he held her against his chest. "There, there, little love, you'll feel right as rain in just a moment," he crooned gently, his voice losing its impish cackle to sound something resembling the normal deep timbre of a man.

          Maurice signed the contract, pleased the sorcerer hadn't tried to trick him with the fine print, and yet feeling as though he had just signed his child's death warrant. The Dark One pressed his lips to the child's brow and she stilled her fussing and became quiet as his magic flowed through her. Color returned to her face and her breathing eased into a normal rhythm and she quietly gazed up at the strange man holding her with something akin to awareness, though Rumpelstiltskin knew it wasn't possible at such a young age. He reluctantly handed the child back to the king before Maurice literally snatched her from his arms.

          Rumpelstiltskin pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and narrowed his eyes on the king. "Eighteen years, sire, and not a moment longer. I will return to claim her as my bride. Remember, sire, no one breaks deals with me. So, any thoughts you might have to worm your way out of your contract will not be tolerated." With that warning hanging heavily in the air, the Dark One took his leave, disappearing in a cloud of violet smoke.

          Maurice dropped wearily onto the chair next to the bed and nuzzled Belle's cheek, finally allowing his tears to flow once again. He would honor Jeannette's last wish to watch over their daughter, to raise her to the best of his ability and keep her safe. He had eighteen years with her … eighteen years to find some way out of the contract he'd made with the most powerful being in the realm. He shuddered as he thought of his child in the hands of that monster. No, he wouldn't allow his Belle to be taken from him. He would save her … by any means necessary.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sixteen years later …

 

          Belle kept to the shadows in the corridor which led to her father's study, his sanctuary, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was no small miracle she'd slipped away from her maid, her chaperone and her governess who seemed to watch her like a hawk. She clutched her book to her chest so tightly, the thin tome was sure to leave an imprint on her rather modest bosom. It didn't matter how much she begged, pleaded or cajoled her father, he insisted she have someone with her every minute of the day … even to the privy! She had never been allowed to try to make friends, though that hadn't stopped Sarah from trying and succeeding. She may only be the housekeeper's daughter, but a more loyal friend Belle couldn't have asked for. It was because of a distraction Sarah had caused that had allowed Belle to escape her entourage in order to slip away for a few moments of much needed privacy. They were surely already looking for her, but they would never think to look for her in the king's study.

          Belle eased the door open, the well-oiled hinges not making a sound, and stuck her head through the modest crack she'd made. There was no sign of her father and she had to stifle an excited giggle as she raced across the Aubusson carpet to quickly hide herself beneath his desk. It would be hours before her servants would find her in there. She still didn't understand why Maurice insisted on surrounding her with servants and guards and hand maidens and the like. Why couldn't he just let her be a normal girl?  _Because you're not a normal girl, Belle. You're the high princess of Avonlea, my girl._  She could hear his voice in her mind just as clearly as if he were there whispering in her ear. She'd heard it one too many times not to have it ingrained in her memory. Sometimes she could swear she heard it in her sleep.

          She didn't want to be special. She wanted only to be a normal girl. Well, as normal as possible, she thought bitterly. If it weren't for the vast library her father had built for her when she'd shown an aptitude for learning, she surely would have gone mad. At least her father hadn't decreed that she marry. Perish the thought! Sarah had married at the tender age of fifteen and her sister a year younger. Belle was at the age where she should have been betrothed to a border knight at the very least, someone she would have at her side to rule when she ascended the throne, someone to sire a fine son and heir. But Maurice hadn't pressed the issue and when Belle had brought it up once, he'd paled, got a frightful case of the shakes and taken to his bed for two days. She was his only daughter and it was only logical he would make himself ill thinking of losing her to the man she would marry, so she had let the matter drop and hadn't mentioned it again.

          She shifted beneath the desk, seeking a more comfortable position and wishing she would have thought to fetch a pillow before she'd crawled beneath her father's large oak desk. It had seemed larger last time she'd thought to hide there, but it had been several years ago, and she had been quite a bit smaller and less burdened by the crinolines and petticoats beneath her wide skirts. Her silk-slippered foot skidded across the carpet and made a loud  _thunk_  as it came in contact with the side of the desk. Her breath hitched in her throat as her ears pricked, listening intently for any sign she had been discovered.

          All thoughts of being found by one of the guards – which must certainly be looking for her by now - fled as she tilted her head and stared at the underside of the king's desk. Curiosity bloomed in her breast as she reached out and brushed her hand over the protruding piece of wood which had popped open when her foot had connected with the oak structure. Since when did her father have a secret compartment in his desk … his desk which he kept locked at all times to keep snoopers at bay? His daughter being the biggest snoop of all. Nothing kept her from learning every secret in the castle, for there wasn't a lock she couldn't pick or a safe she couldn't crack if her curiosity were ravenous enough. Which was probably why her father had hidden this one so well.

          Belle set her book aside and reached into the hidden compartment, greatly anticipating what she would find. Surely, it must be something of great value for her father to have hidden it so well. She was slightly disappointed when she drew her hand back to find only papers clasped within. What could possibly be so imperative and vital he couldn't simply store them with the rest of his important documents? Could he be staging a coup? Relations with King George's kingdom of Strathmore had been disintegrating for a while now, but Lord Smythe hadn't let anything slip during council meetings, nor Lady Bertram over afternoon tea. And if anything noteworthy had happened, that old harpy would have undoubtably spread it within fifteen seconds of hearing the news.

          Her pearly white teeth worried at her bottom lip and a blush rose to stain the apples of her cheeks as an errant thought occurred to her. Admittedly, it was possible her father could be corresponding with a woman, and she was about to read something very private indeed, but she couldn't bring herself to believe the king could be carrying on with a lady friend beneath her nose and her not know of it.

          Her heart thundered in her chest as she opened the letter in her hand, trying to convince herself she was merely taking a peek and no harm would come of it. The wax seal, crimson wax impressed with a dragon, had already been broken. It wasn't as if she were opening the king's personal correspondence, after all. Wide incredulous cerulean eyes narrowed with anger as she read.

 

_Your Majesty—_

 

_My inquiry as to the well-being of my betrothed has not been answered. As per our contract, you are to answer my inquiries about your daughter no less than once a year. If I do not receive your answer within a fortnight, I will regard it as a breach of contract. Somehow, I don't think you would wish to incur my wrath should you attempt to break our deal._

 

_-Rumpelstiltskin_

 

          Belle fought to quell the thundering of her heart, taking several calming breaths. She reached into the hidden compartment once more, feeling around to assure herself she hadn't missed anything, but it was empty. Where could her father have hidden a contract? She knew every nook and cranny of this castle and she'd never come across something as important to her future as a betrothal contract. How could he have kept something like this from her?

          It felt as though her blood were turning to ice within her veins as she crawled from beneath her father's desk, her book laying abandoned in her hiding spot as she wrapped her arms about herself in an effort to warm herself. Betrothed? To the Dark One? Maurice had made sure she was brought up on tales of the dark sorcerer. Those tales had brought her no end of nightmares, and she'd been happy to have her nursemaid sleeping in the same room with her to comfort her when she awoke crying in the night. But why would her father do such a thing to her as to betroth her to that imp, much less keep it from her? How long ago had he done this?

          Determination, mixed with no small amount of indignation, squared her shoulders and she left the king's study, her steps sure instead of stealthy as they'd been when she'd arrived. Exclamations of "We've found the princess" greeted her as she moved through the castle's corridors in search of her father. She stopped for nothing and no one as her resolute stride carried her all the way to the Great Hall where her father was surely holding court to deal with issues from his subjects. It wasn't quite time for tea.

          She was forced to come to a halt before the great double doors as the guards stepped into her path. "Your highness, his majesty is in session with the court. You may not enter."

          "Edmund, you will bring him to me or have the majordomo announce my presence, but I will speak to my father forthwith. Am I making myself clear?" she said, sounding every inch the royal princess she was. Edmund hadn't been long at his new post as a palace guard, preferring a role of knight on the battlefield. He still maintained his ghastly arrogance the role of knight had instilled in him, and Belle found that she didn't care for the man in the least. As miserable as she found her situation, she didn't wish to bring that misery down upon others, especially those she felt responsible for. But there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. She had the uncanny ability to see past the outer layers of a person to the heart within and when it came to Edmund, she didn't like what she saw.

          Marcus stepped forward and bowed to his future monarch. He spoiled the gesture with a saucy wink and Belle had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at the man. He was Sarah's husband and she considered him her friend as well. "Highness, I will have you announced at once."

          She nodded regally and waited, stepping forward as her name and title were announced to the king and his court. Her anger hadn't abated in the least, was in fact fueled by the sight of Maurice's smiling face. That smile faded in an instant as he took in her stormy features and purposeful stride. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the court, leaving them alone in the cavernous chamber. Belle opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, gnashing her teeth together as she paced the plush carpet which ran all the way up to the dais upon which her father's throne sat.

          Maurice descended the steps and stopped before her, his brow knit in a look of concern. "Daughter, what has happened? What has you in such a state of upset? Have you been harmed?"

          "You might say that," Belle said, narrowing her crystalline eyes on him with righteous indignation simmering in their depths. "You could even say I've been betrayed by someone who had my complete faith and loyalty."

          "Gods, Belle, who has hurt you so?" he asked, outrage coloring his ruddy cheeks a bright crimson.

          Belle's eyes flashed murderously as she thrust the letter at him, waving it below his prominent nose. "You, that's who!" she raged.

          Maurice took the letter from her hands, knowing what it was before he opened it. His former blooming complexion paled as the blood drained from his face and left him light headed and a bit nauseated. "Where—"

          "It doesn't matter where I found this. A better question would be…HOW COULD YOU KEEP SUCH A THING FROM ME? THE DARK ONE?! REALLY, PAPA? IF YOU WERE GOING TO SELL ME TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER, COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN SOMEONE HUMAN!?" she screeched. She climbed the steps of the dais and collapsed onto her chair next to her father's throne, all the fight going out of her and leaving nothing but a numbing coldness.

          Maurice slowly climbed the steps and took his seat beside her, giving her a moment to compose herself before speaking. His tone lacked the confidence of the king and took on the soft-spoken timbre of her father. "Dearling, I had hoped to spare you. For years, I have been looking for a way to break this contract with Rumpelstiltskin to spare you. I put off telling you in the hopes I would succeed before you ever had to learn of it."

          "Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

          "I had no choice, Belle. He couldn't save your mother. I had called for him when she had begun failing during her labor, but he could help her no more than the fairies. But he  _could_  save  _you_ , Belle. I couldn't lose you both," he explained, his voice cracking at the last as he was overwhelmed by the emotions the memory evoked.

          Belle stared at him, aghast at his revelation. "He saved me? In exchange for my life you gave me to him?"

          Maurice hung his head in defeat. "In exchange for saving you, he demanded your hand in marriage on your eighteenth birthday."

          Belle swallowed convulsively against the knot which had formed in her throat. "And you've found no solution to this? Have you not offered him anything as an alternative to your only daughter?" she asked, fighting the nausea churning in her stomach.

          "No, daughter, I haven't. I've been trying for years and he will accept nothing in lieu of your hand. I don't know why he's so set on having you, but there is no changing his mind."

          Belle breathed a heavy sigh and tapped her finger to her chin as she sometimes did when she was lost in a deep thought. "I want to see this contract, papa. Perhaps there is something you've overlooked, some loophole which will allow us an out."

          "Do you think I haven't combed over every inch of that infernal document? There is no way out," he said, slumping dejectedly against the back of his throne.

          Belle rose up from her seat and kissed her father's cheek in an effort to bring him comfort. He'd done what he’d thought was best at the time. Eighteen years with his child or none at all. She could understand his reasoning for she would have chosen the same fate for her own child. "Have someone bring the contract to my bed chamber. I won't be joining you for tea this afternoon, but will instead study this document. If there is a way, papa, I assure you I will find it. And make sure you send a reply to his request." She turned and made her way down the carpeted steps before she paused to offer him a wan smile.

          "Would you have me tell him you've learned about our agreement?" he asked, practically spitting the last word. It left a foul taste in his mouth.

          "Yes, you may as well. You may tell him I will be writing to him soon with my own inquiries."

          "Belle, do you really think that's a good idea?" Maurice asked, rising to his feet in alarm.

          "I will not marry a man I have never set eyes on, papa, nor one who I cannot at least correspond with. Now I have less than two years to rectify the situation." She spun on her heel and left the Great Hall, hope alive in her breast … hope she was smarter than the imp to which she found herself bound.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I am thrilled beyond measure with all of you! Thank y’all so much for the lovely reviews. It warms my heart to see you all excited with this re-posting. *hugs and love!*


	3. Chapter 3

          Sarah turned away from the window, the smile on her face falling somewhere about her knees as she took in Belle's ashy gray complexion as the princess strode into her bedchamber, her lips drawn into a tight line. "Gods! Did someone die?" she asked her friend, rushing to her side.

          Mrs. Potts, the woman who had been in charge of Belle's care and well-being from birth, rounded on the girl. "And just where have you been, my girl? The entire palace has been in an uproar over your disappearance!" she scolded.

          Belle glared at them both and disappeared behind her dressing screen to change into her dressing gown. Her tub had yet to be filled and she wanted nothing more than to slip into the steaming water and hope today had just been a bad dream. But it wasn't, she knew that for a fact because never in a thousand slumberous escapades had she ever dreamed she'd be betrothed to the Dark One. While she was distracted, Sarah took the opportunity to continue the age-old argument of Belle's freedom with Mrs. Potts.

          "And you should be ashamed of yourself, Sarah, for  _helping_  her hide. His majesty has her safety protocol in place for a reason and your theatrics earlier—"

          "Theatrics!? She's a virtual prisoner in her own home!" Sarah countered. "She deserves her privacy."

          "Enough!" Belle cried out firmly, piercing them with a steely glare. She had heard it all before and it was getting rather old. Today of all days, she didn't care to hear it again. "Mrs. Potts, I would like some tea and scones, please."

          "As if I would chance leaving you alone with this one," she said with an indignant huff, the little white cap bouncing atop her graying curls.

          "I really don't care if you post an entire garrison of guards at every entrance to my chamber, but tea is a must," Belle said with a weary smile.

          Mrs. Potts dropped into a quick curtsey and set about to see to her lady's needs, leaving Belle alone with Sarah against her better judgment. Sarah remained silent, though it was entirely out of character for the usually outspoken girl. Something was bothering her friend and it wasn't like Belle not to immediately spill her secrets. She kept nothing from Sarah. They'd grown up together, Sarah's mother being the head cook in the palace. She'd befriended Belle when everyone else was too put off by her station, not wanting to incur the wrath of the bevy of servants and guards who surrounded the princess. She was closer to Belle than she was to her own sister and thanked the gods they had each other.

          Belle wrapped her arms about her middle and stared absently out at the late afternoon sun as it cast its rays across the courtyard visible from her window. Sarah linked her arm through hers and led her over to the small settee set before the hearth, urging her down onto it and sitting beside her. "Would you care to tell me how your little sojourn into the realm of freedom brought you back here in a melancholy mood instead of lifting your spirits?"

          A bitter laugh escaped Belle's lips as she stared into the crackling flames of the fire. "I made a rather startling discovery," she said evasively.

          Sarah pulled her feet up onto the settee and tucked them under her skirts, excitement lighting her sparkling green eyes. "Oooh, gossip! What happened, did you find out about Lady Bernice and her not-so-discreet affair with the new captain of the guard? Pooh! I wanted to be the one to tell you."

          Belle blinked incredulously at her friend before she burst out laughing. "Are you serious? I doubt his wife will approve once that shocking tidbit reaches her ears," she said and then gave herself a mental shake. She had no time for idle gossip when her life was falling apart.

          "Yes! We're taking wagers amongst ourselves down in the kitchens as to how Annette will have her revenge. Care to place a bet?" Sarah asked with just a bit too much glee.

          "No." The smile slid away from Belle's lips and a frown drew her brows together as she fiddled with the ties on her dressing gown. "And that isn't the news I discovered today."

          "What could be more delicious than court gossip?"

          "Finding out you're betrothed to the Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One?" Belle said, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. "Finding out your father has been withholding the truth from you about said betrothal since your birth?"

          Sarah blinked owlishly at the princess, her mouth gaping open. "I-I beg your pardon?"

          Belle sighed and told her everything … about hiding in her father's study, her foot slipping and triggering a secret panel in his desk, finding the letter of inquiry sent by the imp and her confrontation with the king. Thankfully, Sarah remained silent through the length of her tale. "He's going to send the contract here for me to peruse this evening. Perhaps I will gain some insight into the terms of this deal."

          Sarah clambered to her feet, her eyes darting about the room before she went into Belle's dressing room and began dragging a small trunk into the room. She threw Belle's wardrobe wide and began removing several dresses from their hangers.

          "What are you doing?" Belle asked, moving to her side and putting a restraining hand on Sarah's arm.

          "What does it look like I'm doing, Belle? I'm bloody well packing. We've got to get you away from here. You can stay with my cousin until we can safely ferry you out of the city proper. Marcus knows a few of the captains who frequent the harbor … perhaps we can secure passage for you on one of their ships and —"

          "Sarah! Stop," Belle scolded, taking the dress Sarah was wrinkling beyond repair in her tightly clenched fists. "I am not going anywhere. And if I did, what makes you think Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't find me? He's the Dark One, for Hera's sake! I'm sure he could find one missing princess. And what would happen to Papa if he couldn't hold up his end of the deal, hmm?"

          Sarah grumbled under her breath, "He didn't have any trouble keeping this knowledge from you. I say let him fend for himself, the old codger."

          "Sarah! I can't let my father pay the price for doing what he thought was right. I would have died if Rumpelstiltskin hadn't saved me as a child. I don't have a choice … I will have to marry him."

          "Are you insane!? You can't marry the Dark One! You've heard the stories about that wizard. He'll eat you for dinner and pick his teeth with your bones!" she said, her voice fearful and afraid as a slight tremor darted through her.

          "Not helping, Sarah."

          "He steals babes and spins clothing from their flesh …"

          "Sarah …"

          "It's said he drinks the blood of his victims …"

          "Sarah! For the love of the gods! Control yourself," Belle admonished, feeling the tiny hairs stand up on the back of her neck. "Enough of this. Have you ever met the man?"

          Sarah shook her head, her ebony curls bouncing wildly about her shoulders. "Of course, not. Do you think I'd be standing here in one piece if I'd ever been that much of a fool as to call upon him?"

          "You can't believe every little bit of gossip you hear. I'm sure most of those stories were greatly exaggerated," Belle said, wringing her hands nervously, hoping she was right. She wasn't about to fuel her friend's fears by telling her of her own accusations to her father earlier in the Great Hall.

          "There are books in your own library full of stories such as these. You of all people should know books don't lie, Belle."

          Belle waved a hand dismissively and snorted. "Sarah, an author will spin a tale which will captivate his audience. It doesn't necessarily mean it's true unless you are reading a biography or a history. How many books do you think they would sell if they wrote 'The Dark One is a solitary man who lives in a crude dwelling with ten cats and enjoys playing checkers with the hedge witch down the lane'?"

          Sarah's lips twitched at the corners as she fought back her smile. "Knowing you, you'd read it."

          Belle grinned and took the remaining dresses, hanging them back in her wardrobe neatly. Mrs. Potts took that moment to return with a tea tray and set it on the low table next to the settee, glaring dolefully at the trunk. "Going somewhere, dear?"

          "No, Mrs. Potts, I was just airing out the trunk to … ah … loan to Sarah. Her cousin is going on a sea voyage and I thought I would be generous by lending out my luggage. I never use it anyway," Belle fibbed, covering for her friend's earlier panic.

          "That's nice, dear," she said, preparing a cup of the brew for her mistress. She pulled an aged scroll from the pocket of her apron. "Highness, Marcus stopped me outside and gave me this to bring to you … from your father." She raised a brow in Sarah's direction. "Your dear husband is waiting for you outside, missy, hoping to escort you home for the evening."

          Sarah bit her lip, cringing at the thought of leaving Belle alone. She was far too curious as to this afternoon's turn of events. "Belle, I can stay if you need me to," she offered.

          Belle linked her arm with hers and wrapped her hand around the handle of the trunk, offering it to her friend. "We'll talk in the morning, love. I have a bit of reading to do and will no doubt be dreadful company this evening," she said.

          Sarah embraced Belle and slipped through the door. "I will see you first thing."

          "Naturally."

          Belle turned back into her room and moved to her writing desk, unfurling the scroll and setting several paperweights on it to hold it open as she sipped at her tea. She withdrew a piece of parchment from the desk drawer and sharpened a quill, setting them next to the contract and a full ink pot. If she were going to do this, she was going to do it right. There were many things one could discern about a person if you knew what to look for.

          The first thing she noticed about the contract was the precise penmanship. She picked up her quill and set it to her parchment.

_Precise penmanship … denotes a meticulous nature. The contract seems to be well worded so as not to confuse exactly what he wants from the deal. Even the fine print is worded with clarity if the person making the deal with the Dark One would take the time to read it._

          Mrs. Potts cleared her throat, drawing Belle's attention away from the notes she was penning. "Highness, it is time to dress for dinner."

          Belle shook her head. "No, I don't think I will be going down this evening. Would you please see that a tray is sent up? Something light will do, perhaps some soup and a small loaf of Adelaine's sourdough," she murmured absently, beginning to read over the fine points of the deal.

 

_I, Rumpelstiltskin, subscribe to restore Belle, High Princess of Avonlea, daughter of King Maurice and the late Queen Jeannette of Avonlea, to complete health and prosperity if the following conditions are met with the utmost commitment of the following terms:_

 

  1. _Upon reaching her majority at the age of eighteen years,_ _the princess will be given in the honorable state of matrimony to Rumpelstiltskin, Dark One and Lord of Dark Castle to reign as his consort._



 

  1. _No less than once per year, a letter of inquiry must be answered detailing the health and progress of the princess, as well as any specific questions asked by her betrothed._



 

_I, Rumpelstiltskin, acquiesce to his majesty, Maurice King of Avonlea's request not to "see" Belle until the day of our marriage ceremony._

 

          It also went on to list several unspeakable things the mage would enjoying doing to her father should he somehow find a way to break the deal. Belle's nose wrinkled as she pursed her lips and stared down at the contract with a scowl. Her father was a mutton head! How did he expect her to marry a man whom she'd never laid eyes upon, never spoken to and certainly didn't love? If she was going to hold up her end of the bargain … because really, what choice did she have … this would not do at all. And the contract was clear. He could not see  _her._  There was nothing stating she could not see  _him._  There was also nothing in the contract which forbade her from contacting him.

          She tapped the ebony raven's quill to her chin and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.  _This could actually work, but I will have to be careful._  She hastily folded up the notes she'd made and stuffed it into her journal along with the contract. Her maids knew not to go into her personal space and didn't fear they would find it. However, she locked the drawer just to be on the safe side.

          Taking out another sheet of parchment, she dipped her quill into the ink pot and began to write. When she was done, she held some wax in the candle flame to soften and then pressed it to the seam of her letter. She pressed her seal into the wax, the Beaumont crest staring back at her. With a flourish of her looping scrawl she wrote his name across the front. She needed to hurry if she were to escape Mrs. Potts' keen nose for intrigue.

          Belle held the letter tightly in her hand and concentrated, the missive vanishing in a tiny wisp of blue smoke. She breathed a sigh of relief and smoothed her hands over her skirts. No one knew of her gift save for Sarah and she wanted to keep it that way.


	4. Chapter 4

 

          Rumpelstiltskin scowled down at the letter in his hands. Maurice, that old fool, had finally answered his inquiry, but it wasn't what he'd been anticipating. He'd never thought two words would have such an impact on him. Two words … _She knows._ What was the old king thinking of, letting her learn the truth now? There were still eighteen months … five days, seventeen hours ...

          He tossed the letter into the fire and watched the flames lick at the parchment bearing those two words which brought him such anxiety. Leaning back in his leather chair, he steepled his hands beneath his chin and wondered how she had taken the news.

          His little dearie couldn't have been too happy to discover she was to be married to the Dark One. She had probably thrown a royal tantrum befitting her station as high princess. A frown drew his brows together over his thoughtful amber eyes, the fire reflecting in their steely depths. Who in their right mind would have been happy over hearing they would be given to a beast in payment of a contract? He had been a fool to ever conceive of such a notion.

          Why couldn't Maurice have kept his big mouth shut and let things go on as they had been for the last sixteen and a half years? Why couldn't he have sent the usual answer in reply to his inquiry? He enjoyed hearing details of her life and learning she was growing into a fine young woman. He'd been able to glean from the letters that she was not only a beauty, but smart and intelligent with a quick mind which made her adept at learning. Over the years, when he'd learned she had a love of all things literary, he'd sent Maurice mountains of books for her pleasure. He wondered if the old king had given them to her or in a fit of pique had thrown them into the fire, not wanting to accept a gift from him. And why shouldn't he send gifts for his betrothed? She was his, after all. He’d never sent anything of a more personal nature, knowing Belle would never receive it. But there was nothing in the contract stating he couldn't send her small tokens of his admiration.

          Again, he cursed himself for a fool, questioning himself again and again as to his reasoning for making that deal with the king. If he hadn't listened to  _her._  It was all  _her_ fault, building up his hopes for the future and causing him to believe he could be something other than what he was. As if the mere thought of  _her_  had conjured her from the ether, the double doors leading into the darkened Great Hall opened to admit a lone solitary figure swathed in lavender robes, amethysts glittering at her throat and wrists. She was one of the most beautiful creatures ever to walk the seven realms with her violet eyes and white blonde hair, but Rumpelstiltskin inwardly cringed and cast his gaze away from her, a deep scowl upon his beastly visage, making him look even more fearsome than what he was.

          "What are you doing here?" he snarled, making it clear she was not welcome in his home.

          A tinkling laugh, warm and soothing issued from her rosebud mouth as her lips spread into a wide smile. "It's lovely to see you as well, Spinner," she retorted. She took a seat across from him upon the spare armchair before the fire and summoned a tea tray to set between them. Her actions were comfortable and practiced, as if she joined him every day for afternoon tea. "Join me?"

          "I'm in absolutely no mood for your games today, Winter, so get to the bloody purpose of your visit and begone!" he barked coldly.

          His inhospitable tone was to be expected, but she ignored him as she stirred sugar into her tea. "Now is that any way to greet your only friend?"

          "We are most certainly  _not_  friends, dearie."

          Her lips pursed into a moue of disappointment. "Be careful, Spinner, or you may very well hurt my feelings."

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted and reached for the teapot. She would no doubt drag out the purpose for her visit until he agreed to participate in the pleasantries. He wished she would drag herself back to her cave or lair or wherever it was she hid herself away for another decade or two and leave him to his thoughts and pursuits. It must be a doozy of a reason to have her call on him now. But he would be damned if he would respond to her delicate attempts at polite conversation until she got to the point.

          Winter sighed and leveled him with her violet gaze. "Fine. It has come to my attention your little flower has blossomed into a fine young woman and is no longer in the dark about your association."

          And there it was, he thought irritably. He should have known the enchantress would be monitoring this deal. It had been her own idea to begin with. "Indeed," he acknowledged with a nod. "I still don't understand why you should care."

          "Oh, Spinner, I care about all beings in the seven realms. I wish for nothing but happiness for them, you included. You've lost your humanity and this girl is the only way you will ever get it back," she intoned, raising her cup to her lips to sip at her tea.

          "It's a useless endeavor," he insisted. He cared for nothing or no one aside from his lost son and somehow finding a way to reunite with him.  "You just don't want me to cast the curse which will take me to Baelfire. Your motivation is completely self-serving."

          The smile slipped from her face and her features grew dark, the flames in the hearth roaring suddenly in the face of her ire. "Admittedly, I do not wish to see you bring about the destruction of our land in an attempt to find your child, but what good will it serve to find him if you've lost yourself in the process. How do you think Baelfire will feel to see the man you have become?"

          It was a true testament to her faith in him that she called him a man instead of a monster. "Nothing matters except that I find him. I will deal with his views of me once I do so."

          "Then why make the deal for the girl? I told you years ago she would bring love and hope and happiness to your life. You would have discarded the notion of wedding her if some part of you didn't desire those things."

          He looked away, turning his gaze down to stare into his cup, afraid she would see the truth in his eyes. Some small part of him did indeed want those things. He longed to have someone to share his life with; someone to talk to, to share his hopes and dreams with, someone to care for and have their affection in return. Damnit, he was lonely, he admitted ruefully. And according to Winter, this was the only girl who might have a chance of caring for him. "Mayhap."

          Winter gazed on him with sympathy shining in the depths of her violet eyes and sighed. "You could always break the deal if it causes you such distress … go on as you have been for the last three centuries."

          "I have broken one deal in my life, dearie, a mistake I will not make again. No, she is mine and mine she will remain," he asserted, standing firm in his convictions.

          "Lovely," she said, all but bouncing in her chair with glee. She rose to her feet and extended her hand, a bit of parchment with the Beaumont crest staring back at him. "I will take my leave of you then, Spinner. By the by, this was on the table in the foyer when I arrived. You might want to have a look." Her grin was positively mischievous as she waited for him to take the letter from her hand, making him doubt it was from Maurice.

          He snatched the parchment from her hand with a growl as he took in the looping penmanship of the address, not giving her another thought as she took her leave. He knew it wouldn't be the last he saw of her, but he could hope her next visit would  _not_  be any time in the near future. He slipped the blackened claw of his thumb beneath the wax seal and opened the letter, a smirk on his lips as he began to read.

 

 

_Rumpelstiltskin,_

 

_It has come to my attention that you made a deal with my father, Maurice, on the day of my birth. While I am grateful to you for giving me a chance at life, for healing me, I am vexed to find myself betrothed to a man I do not know. I cannot commit myself to marry a man I know nothing about aside from the stories I have read about him. Surely, we could come to an alternative solution to this problem. It is my wish you come to Avonlea to discuss the terms of a new deal, one which will be beneficial to the both of us._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Belle_

 

An impish giggle trilled through the dark recesses of the Great Hall as he sprang to his feet and left the hall in favor of his study. He went to his writing desk and picked up the peacock quill, dipping it hurriedly into the ink pot in his haste to respond. Oh, she was a witty one, his little dearie.

 

 

_My dear princess,_

 

_No one breaks deals with me, dearie._

 

_Rumpelstiltskin_

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle sat down with her father at the long dining table, her mood sour as she stared down the length of the wooden monstrosity at the members of the court who were dining with them. She would have liked nothing better than to have a solitary meal in her room with only Sarah for company, but Maurice had insisted. There were only eighteen months remaining until she would be sacrificed on the altar of matrimony and she couldn't begrudge him what little time they had left together.

          "You look pale, my darling. You should spend some time with the roses in the garden. I think it would benefit you greatly," he murmured, hating to see her in such a melancholy disposition.

          "I might enjoy the garden more, papa, if I were allowed to have a moment's privacy. It makes it difficult to enjoy myself when I have an entire entourage following in my wake," she grumbled, bringing up the age-old argument of her safety and the protocols her father insisted upon to insure it.

          "I know you hate it, darling, but it is to protect you," Maurice said absently, having had this discussion too many times to count in the past, and reached for several pieces of wild boar which he proceeded to pile upon his plate.

          Belle's eyes narrowed belligerently on her father. "I always wondered just what it was you were so afraid of, Papa, and I think I've finally figured it out. You are afraid Rumpelstiltskin will somehow come to carry me off."

          The king's usually ruddy complexion paled. "I-I don't know what you mean."

          Belle arched a brow at him as he refused to meet her gaze. "Really, Papa, should he decide to make off with me, how much defense do you think my maids and guards would provide against one as powerful as him," she scoffed. "I propose a compromise," she said firmly, reaching for a portion of braised spinach to go along with the meat already on her plate.

          "What kind of compromise?"

          "I will relent in my complaints if you would be so kind as to thin out the number of people constantly surrounding me."

          Maurice paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, the roasted potato falling back onto his plate as his hand trembled violently. "No."

          Belle chewed slowly, praying for patience. "Yes. Mrs. Potts and Sarah will be my constant companions and Marcus and his squire can be my guards. I will still be protected, but without  _everyone_  watching my every move."

          "But, Belle —"

          "Papa, things cannot continue as they are. I need to feel I'm something aside from a guarded possession. I want to be able to go out into the garden and enjoy a book, alone, in the sunshine without feeling as though my every move is being watched. Please, Papa," she pleaded.

          Maurice drank deeply of the wine in his goblet, trying to fortify himself. "Belle, that imp cannot be trusted."

          "In all the time you have had the contract with him, has he ever once tried to see me?" she asked, a knowing smirk curving her lips as he pulled nervously at the collar of his jerkin. "No, he hasn't, because that would have violated the terms of the deal. There is no good reason for you to stifle me so."

          "I will consider it," he answered, realizing she was right.

          Belle sat back in her chair, determined to enjoy her dinner now that she was confident her father would accede to her wishes. She steadfastly ignored the young lord sitting to her right, rolling her eyes as he expounded on his latest hunting expedition. She was halfway through her trifle when a letter just appeared in a puff of purple smoke next to her goblet. Her eyes widened, and excitement coursed through her, knowing it was the response to her letter to Rumpelstiltskin she'd been waiting for.

          Her hand shook with trepidation as she reached for the letter, her father asking, "What is that?"

          She avoided his query and quickly broke the seal on the parchment, scanning the few words he'd written. She balled the letter tightly in her fist, grinding her teeth at his insolence. "Papa, I must ask you to excuse me. I have an urgent letter to write."

          "To whom?" he asked, agitated.

          "To my betrothed."

          "You're writing to him now!?" he bellowed, drawing the surprised stares of his dinner companions.

          "Yes, I am. How else am I going to fix this mess you've gotten me into?" she hissed in irritation. The court did not need to be apprised of the intimate details of her life.

          Before he could utter another protest, one which would surely have them arguing at the dinner table, she rose to her feet, dropped a hasty kiss to her father's cheek and darted across the room, her guards following in her wake.  _No one breaks deals with me, dearie._  His words repeated themselves over and over in her mind as she made her way to her bed chamber, her temper at the boiling point. She'd show him she wasn't one of his deals, she vowed. She'd find a way out of this predicament and if she couldn't, then …

          She paused, Marcus nearly plowing into her back when she stopped suddenly in her tracks. What would she do if she couldn't convince him to make a new deal with her? She was firm in the knowledge she could never marry a man she didn't love. Could she love him when she didn't know him? And how was she supposed to get to know him if he wouldn't visit her?

          The missive in her hand began to smoke as her annoyance with her betrothed reached critical mass. She took a deep breath and continued down the corridor, hoping her guards attributed the wisp of smoke to the torches lining the walls. She knew better than to lose control of her temper because the magic which dwelled within her was unstable, never having had anyone teach her how to control it. What little she knew she'd learned through trial and error … a lot of error, she thought miserably.

          Belle was more in control of her emotions as she jotted off another letter to her irascible fiancé, wishing fervently this one would receive a better response … and if not better, longer than one sentence.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you all so much for your support and love for this fic. It means so very much to me. I’m so thrilled everyone seems to be enjoying it again. Until tomorrow!!


	5. Chapter 5

 

          The immense wood and steel doors gracing the entrance to the Dark Castle closed behind the wily sorcerer as he stomped into the foyer, a scowl on his weathered face. He'd escorted the queen to her carriage to make sure she didn't detour anywhere else in the castle. Regina had completely soured the pleasant mood the letter from his betrothed had put him in and now that she was gone, he hoped to lose himself in his spinning before his temper was unleashed and he smashed more of his valuables.

          His footsteps halted immediately, a grin slowly spreading his thin lips as he noticed the pristine white parchment sitting on the table in the foyer with his name boldly scrawled along the front and the Beaumont crest emblazoned on the wax seal. He bypassed the Great Hall in favor of his study, holding off on reading her words until he was seated at his desk before breaking the seal.

 

 

_Rumpelstiltskin —_

 

 _Really?_ “No one breaks deals with me, dearie."  _That's it?! That's all you have to say or is that the poor extent of your vocabulary? I was certain someone so adept at written contracts would have been a bit more articulate when conversing with the woman you … by your own machinations … will spend the rest of your life with. If the contract is so important to you, come to Avonlea and we can negotiate a new deal. I believe you took unfair advantage of my father in a time of great sorrow. I wish to spare him the pain of having to deal with you any longer. I'm certain we will be able to come to a new arrangement._

 

_Belle_

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin sat back in his leather chair and twirled the peacock quill between his long spinner's fingers. He had to admire her for her tenacity. It didn't appear she would give up easily and the temptation to grant her request was nearly overwhelming. He'd love nothing more than to present himself in Avonlea to meet her. He longed to cast his gaze upon her, having no doubt such a beautiful babe would have blossomed into a beauty who would rival the fairest in the land. He wanted so badly to see if her eyes would flash with anger, if her cheeks would flush and if her voice would be as tinkling as a fairy's wings. Would she be accepting of his form or would she run in fear? And that right there was what kept him glued to his seat.

          The enchantress had promised him Belle would help him find his humanity, that she would be the one woman in the seven realms who could love him, and the one who would bring him happiness and a release from the constant loneliness he suffered. All could be his if he were just willing to take the chance. But the contract bound him just as it did his princess. He had been so desperate for the king to agree to his price, he hadn't thought of the repercussions. How was he to know his little princess would actually want to meet him before she was forced to wed him? Now if he acquiesced to her request, if he laid his eyes upon her beauty, he would forfeit the deal and that wasn't something he was willing to do.

          A giggle filled with genuine glee escaped his lips as he dipped the quill into the ink pot and began to write.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle rubbed her eyes and yawned widely, sitting up in the center of the huge four poster situated in the center of her bed chamber as Sarah bustled into the room carrying her morning tea tray. "Morning, sleepyhead," she said cheerfully, setting the tray on the bed atop the coverlet and sitting next to her friend. "It's about time you woke up."

          "I couldn't sleep last night," Belle admitted, taking the offered cup and sipping gingerly at the steaming brew. After she had sent the letter, she had begun doubting herself. Had she been too harsh with Rumpelstiltskin? He literally held her future in his hands and she had insulted him. Gah! She was an idiot. His power was limitless … he could turn her into the March Hare and no one would be able to stop him. Of course, he'd actually have to come to Avonlea to do so. She groaned.

          "What's wrong with you, eh?" Sarah asked.

          "Nothing. Where are Elspeth and Letitcia?" she asked, wondering where her maids were this morning. And why was Sarah grinning like a loon?

          "It appears the king has had a change of heart and I have been named your lady in waiting." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "And Mrs. Potts can no longer banish me to the kitchens when I'd much rather spend all my time with you," she said happily.

          Belle's face lit with happiness and she slung her arm around Sarah for a quick hug. "You're jesting! Truly he did?"

          "Truly!"

          Her talk with her father had actually yielded results … finally! Too bad she hadn't found out about the betrothal contract years ago. She was surprised Sarah had been elevated to such a lofty position, considering a lady in waiting to a princess should be higher ranking than a peasant. And she couldn't be happier. At last, something good was happening in her life. She listened to Sarah expound on idle gossip as Belle disappeared behind her privacy screen and began to dress.

          "Um … Belle?"

          "Hmm?"

          Belle frowned at the slight note of panic in her friend's voice as she answered, "Was this letter on your night table the whole time?"

          Her head shot up over the top of the screen, her eyes wide. "What letter?" she inquired, excitement coursing through her. Sarah gaped at her as Belle raced from behind the screen in only her shift and a lone stocking, her hair falling around her shoulders in disarray. She was further astounded when the princess snatched the letter from her hand as if it were a royal pardon and broke the seal.

 

 

_My dear princess —_

 

_I do apologize if my brief reply to your previous letter caused you undue distress. Therefore, I will reiterate … the deal remains. There will be no loopholes, no renegotiations and absolutely no dissolution of this contract. It saddens me greatly I cannot tell you this in person, dearie, but the contract forbids it. I am certain there will be many opportunities to strike a deal with me once we are wed. There's really no need to rush._

 

_Yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          Belle read the letter three times before she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. He wasn't angry with her for insulting him in her previous letter. He actually sounded amused by it. And he was saddened he couldn't discuss it with her in person? Did he want to meet with her then?

          "Belle … Belle … Belle!"

          Belle looked up distractedly as Sarah waved a hand before her face to gain her attention. "Hmm, what?"

          "Who is the letter from?"

          She remembered the horror on her friend's face yesterday when she'd told her about the contract and the letter of inquiry and especially the betrothal, and wondered if she should confide in her. Shrugging, she admitted, "Rumpelstiltskin. And don't you dare start in on me, Sarah. There was nothing in the contract saying I couldn't write to him."

          "Why in seven hells would you want to?!" Sarah asked incredulously, wringing her hands.

          "I don't know," Belle said, once again disappearing behind the screen to dress now that she had read the letter. "I was angry last night, and I wanted answers … not that I got any. But that's beside the point. This is the man I'm going to be joined to in holy bloody matrimony. Isn't it natural for me to be curious?"

          Sarah groaned and flopped face down onto the bed, banging her head against the mattress. "I cannot believe this. My best friend is going to marry the Dark One." A little more loudly she said, "It's not too late to book passage out of the kingdom."

          "And leave Papa here to suffer the fallout? I will not even consider it. Besides, we don't really know what Rumpelstiltskin is like. We can only go by the stories we've heard from others or what we've read in books and that is no way to judge someone. They could be completely wrong, and he could be …" She let her words trail off, not daring to hope it was true, but stubborn enough to convince herself they were.

          "He could be what?"

          "Nice?"

          Sarah snorted and buried her head in a pillow, screaming in frustration. "You're deluding yourself," she said, her voice now a bit hoarse.

          "At least he's articulate and has a lovely vocabulary. It shows he's an educated man, someone with whom I could have a decent conversation. Not at all like that brainless lout I had as my dinner companion last night. He was all but grunting his responses. Utterly useless," Belle said, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. "Can you braid my hair?"

          Sarah sighed as she sat up and climbed off the bed, moving to Belle's vanity to begin brushing out her long chestnut locks. "And what good will it do to have a conversation with him if you can't abide to look at him, eh?"

          "Really, Sarah," Belle scolded gently. "Looks aren't everything. Gaston Westmoreland has most of the ladies of my father's court swooning over him and he can't string two sentences together."

          Sarah grinned at Belle in the mirror, her nose crinkling and her hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. "He's still handsome. The Dark One is reputed to be hideous. Think, Belle! If you go through with this wedding, you're going to have to … um … you know … consummate the marriage," she said, horrified.

          A rosy blush rose to stain Belle's cheeks crimson. "Sarah!"

          Sarah shrugged, a secret smile curving her lips. "I'm just saying, Belle, it's something to think about."

          Belle, being as well read as she was, knew all too well what to expect on her wedding night and would have dwelled on thoughts of her betrothed had she had a clue as to what he looked like. Was he tall or short? Muscular or slender? Gentle or aggressive? The possibilities were endless and now that the idea had taken root, it was sure to drive her batty. "Thanks, love, I really needed you to give me something new to worry over," she said sourly.

          Sarah winced, sorry she'd upset her friend. "I'm sorry, Belle."

          Belle rose from the vanity and moved over to the bed, folding Rumpelstiltskin's letter and tucking it into the pocket of her muslin dress. "Come on, I'm hungry and if we're late to breakfast Papa is sure to eat all the crumpets."

          She linked her arm through Sarah's and pulled her out into the corridor to join her father for breakfast. She couldn't wait for it to be over, so she could sit down and write another letter to her enigmatic betrothed.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin stood stock still next to the table in the foyer, glowering at the shiny surface covered in a thin layer of dust. Why hadn't she written back? It was twilight, he noticed as he glanced towards the windows on either side of the massive entry doors. Perhaps he'd angered her with his reply … or maybe she wasn't interested in writing anymore now that he'd refused her request to come to Avonlea. He pinched the bridge of his nose as a curse fell from his lips, thinking he'd already derailed his fragile attempt to converse with her through writing.

          The letter smacked him in the back of the head before landing gently on the table, and he couldn't stop himself from snatching it up and starting down the corridor to his study. By the time he’d sat at his desk, he'd broken the seal, unfolded the parchment and read the first sentence.

 

 

_My dear Rumpel —_

 

_Is that what you wish me to call you? I am assuming as much since you signed your last letter with that moniker. For now, I will accept your determination to keep your distance, but do not always think I will. I will not break the contract and take the chance of some harm befalling my father. He has done nothing but love and protect me my entire life … though at times I have felt like a prisoner … and I will be a good daughter and do my duty._

 

_However … I have some concerns as to whether or not I will feel comfortable being your wife. If my father were to choose a husband for me, I would be granted a period of time to become acquainted with him. I expect no less from you. Considering you've had my father keeping you informed of me all these years, I request the same. I want to know you, Rumpel. I want to know you are more than what I've been told, more than what I've read about in my books. Would you be willing to continue writing to me, please?_

 

          He pressed his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes, unwilling to believe what he was reading. He ignored the tightening in his chest around his heart at her willingness to learn more about him … _him_ , not the beast he was reputed to be. She wasn't professing the deep abiding love the enchantress had foreseen, but she was willing to take a chance on him to secure her own happiness, her own future … one he would be a part of.

Rumpelstiltskin returned his gaze to the letter, this one much longer than the previous two, a genuine smile stretching his mouth.

 

 

 _I would also be happy to answer any questions about myself or my life my father has neglected to answer for you. I am hoping by sharing this link between us we will be able to find we have something in common with one another. Surely, we must have some common interests, yes? I look forward to your reply._  

_Sincerely,_

_Belle_

 

          He read through the letter again and again, trying to imagine what her voice would sound like, and then frowning as he read that she felt like a prisoner in her own home. No, no, no, that just wouldn't do at all. Question upon question rattled through his mind, things he'd been dying to ask over the years flooding to the surface as he picked up his quill. Yet when he put the tip to a fresh bit of parchment he didn't know what to write first. It would be so much easier if he could speak to her.  _Stupid contract!_

          He decided to start with something simple …

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Finally, we’re getting somewhere! The letters have begun :D I want to thank you all for your lovely support. I cherish each and every review. I love interacting with my readers, so don’t hesitate to drop me a line. *love and hugs*


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

 

          Belle poked listlessly at the eggs growing cold on her plate. She had hoped a letter would be awaiting her when she woke this morning and the crushing disappointment at receiving none had surprised her. She had really thought he might want to continue to write to her, to further their brief acquaintance into something they could build a relationship on, be it a friendship or something more. What was she thinking wanting to be friends with the Dark One? Sarah already thought she was perfectly insane and she could just imagine what her friend would say if she ever developed more than friendly feelings for the dark sorcerer. Then why did it pain her that he hadn't deigned to contact her? He could at least have sent a refusal.

          "Are you going to eat those, or simply continue to push them around on your plate, my girl?" Maurice asked as he dropped into his seat next to her at the table.

          "Good morning, Papa," she murmured, leaning over to her left to drop a quick kiss to his cheek. "I suppose I'm just not hungry this morning."

          "Still brooding over the betrothal? I'm so sorry you had to learn about it now," he replied guiltily.

          Belle sighed, unwilling to let his statement rile her this morning. But it still left her somewhat bitter. "I think you would have waited until the moment he entered the castle before finally telling me the truth in some misguided notion to protect me."

          "I was hoping you would never learn the truth."

          "And just how did you expect to keep it from me?" she asked indignantly, her brows shooting up into her hairline. Sarah snorted into her tea cup to Belle's right and it took effort not to elbow her friend and companion in the ribs. "I can just see it now, Papa. 'Daughter, I may have promised your hand in marriage to the Dark One to save your life. Please don't be angry.' And all while you're walking me down the bloody aisle!" she hissed.

          Maurice flushed crimson, his eyes, so like his daughter's, flashing angrily. "I had hoped not to have to tell you at all, Belle. I was certain I would have found a way to break this contract by now or at least get him to alter the deal and accept something in lieu of your hand."

          Belle jabbed her fork into a link of sausage on her plate so hard she was surprised the china didn't crack beneath the force of it. "And that's worked out soooo well for you, hasn't it?"

          The king held his silence until he'd filled his plate with the myriad selections set on the table before him. "I have tried nearly every magical source in the seven realms, Belle, searching for a way out. I've offered Rumpelstiltskin the entire wealth of my kingdom, I've gone to the blind witch, the white witch … even the dragon witch, Maleficent. Their answers were all the same; no one can break a deal with the Dark One without dire consequences. I sent an entire garrison to seek counsel from the Stygian witches and only one knight returned with the news that my quest was hopeless."

          Belle wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Aren't they the witches that share an all-seeing magical glass eye and practice cannibalism? Oh, Papa, how could you send our soldiers into such a situation? That was utterly selfish of you and you should be ashamed," she scolded.  _You should have just sent that great oaf, Gaston._

          Maurice felt shame wash over him at his daughter's distaste. "I did what I had to do, Belle. I had to try to find some way to save you from that beast. I even went so far as to seek out the fates, begging them to change what had been done, pleading them to remove the twine which linked you to the Dark One. They refused, muttering some such nonsense that if they changed your fate it would affect the fates of others. I was hoping the Enchantress of the Dark Wood would finally be able to give me the answer I sought."

          Belle shivered involuntarily at the mention of the enchantress. The enchantress was centuries, perhaps millennia old, and was neither good nor evil. It was reputed she never left her domain in the Dark Woods unless it suited her own purposes or that of the greater good … the greater good being whatever she deemed important at the time. "And what did she tell you, Papa?" Belle asked in a quiet tone, some of the fight having left her.

          "She sent me away with a warning not to interfere," he said, his shoulders drooping dejectedly. "But that will not stop me from continuing in my quest to free you."

          Belle sighed and pushed her plate away in disgust at the mess congealing on her plate. A servant came to whisk it away, leaving her to pour herself a fresh cup of tea. "Give over, Papa. You did what you thought was best. I will not shirk my duty,” she grumbled petulantly.  “I’m sure everything will work out."  _Hopefully_ , she added silently.

          "Belle —" Her hand covering his larger one silenced his protests.

          "It will be fine. I will marry Rumpelstiltskin and the contract will be fulfilled, leaving everyone happy," she assured him.

          Maurice made a grumbling noise and concentrated on his breakfast, confident only the dark sorcerer would be pleased with the outcome of that blasted contract. He glowered down at the table as Belle gasped and reached for the letter which appeared before her bearing the seal of the Dark One, the dark crimson wax with a dragon on a background of flames mocking the king. His eyes narrowed as he took in her trembling hands as she broke the seal, her eyes traveling almost hungrily over the lines of script. He leaned forward to look around Belle at Sarah sitting back in her chair with a groan, impatiently tapping her fingernails on the table.

          It seemed her dear friend approved of Belle exchanging correspondence with the imp no more than he did.

          Belle ignored them both as she took in her betrothed's elegant script with a tiny smile curving her full lips.

 

_My dear Belle —_

 

          She raised a brow, her smile widening. He'd gone from greeting her as  _princess_  to  _Belle_. Very encouraging, she thought with more than a good deal of satisfaction.

 

 

_I feel it would behoove us both to continue to correspond with one another and it brings me great pleasure that you have accepted your fate as my bride. I will endeavor to satisfy your curiosity, dearie, and answer any questions you may have._

 

          Belle clenched her teeth together and glared at the letter she held tightly in her hand. There was that condescending  _dearie_  again. That was going to have to cease immediately! Already her response was forming in her mind.

 

 

_And what is this nonsense of you feeling like a prisoner? Are you being mistreated? I want to know at once if someone has harmed you! I eagerly await your answer to this letter, Belle._

 

_Yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          Belle frowned, trying to remember if she might have mentioned anything in her last letter about the unreasonable safeguards put in place by her father for her protection. She must have if he were inquiring about it. Hurriedly, she refolded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her emerald day gown. She scrambled to her feet and called to her father that she would see him at dinner, beating a hasty retreat from the dining hall. The trek to her room had never seemed longer than it did at that moment. She had just picked up her quill to begin her response when Sarah burst through the door, completely out of breath.

          "You left me! What in seven hells is so all fire important you couldn't have waited for me?" she huffed indignantly, glowering at her friend.

          "Shh!"

          "You did  _not_  just shush me, Belle Beaumont!"

          "Yes, I most certainly did and if you expect an answer to your questions, I suggest you let me finish this first," she said as her hand moved swiftly across the parchment.

          Sarah grumbled in irritation and sat down on the sofa, pulling her embroidery sampler onto her lap and making several angry stitches she was sure to regret. Sure enough, she was forced to pull them out with the point of her needle, rethread it and start over, giving Belle the time she needed to write. Then the princess was going to tell her what was so urgent whether she wanted to or not.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin frowned in concern at the pitiful old woman on her knees. When he'd knocked on the door of the shanty she inhabited, he wasn't expecting her to throw herself at his feet and weep with relief that he'd answered her summons. "Madam, control yourself," he said irritably as he reached down to grip her elbow and help her rise to her feet. He tried to hide the surprise on his face when she didn't run in abject horror to have him touch her.

          He helped her into a rickety wooden chair by the fire and stepped back to take her in. She looked so frail a gentle breeze could knock her down. She kept her head bowed in respect, yet not a trace of fear could be found in her posture … simply relief. "What is it you desire, dearie? Are you going to tell me or continue with your blubbering?"

          "Forgive me, milord, I am just so grateful you have come," she said, finally raising her watery grey eyes to meet his. He waved a hand dismissively and gestured for her to continue. "It's my grandson. He's fallen ill, and I have no money to pay the apothecary for the medicines needed to heal him. I just need a small amount of gold, milord. I will give you anything, pay any price if you will but help me," she said, her voice raspy and weak.

          Rumpelstiltskin glanced about the meager dwelling until his eyes fell upon the child resting on a low cot in the corner of the room. He was familiar with the apothecary in this village and hadn't the first kind feeling towards the man. He was a thief and a liar and was no doubt charging the poor woman triple what his services were worth. Everard would  _not_  see an ounce of his gold, the imp thought with a sneer curling his lips. He moved to the boy's side and grimaced as he heard the rattling rasp of his breath deep in his chest. The child couldn't be more than four, five at the most and thoughts of his Baelfire flooded his mind. It would be a simple matter to heal him and have him on his feet in a day or so.

          "I will not give you gold, mother, so you can line Everard's already heavy pockets," he intoned. He ignored her pitiful cries and pleas and called his magic into his hands, holding them lightly to the boy's chest, searching out the source of the sickness and willing it away.

          The boy opened his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath, a smile lighting his face as he found it easier to breathe. The smile vanished as he glanced up at the sorcerer, his eyes filling with fear. "Gramma," he wailed, trying to scoot off the bed and go to his grandmother. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and let him go, rising to his feet.

          The old woman's tears resumed, only now she wept tears of joy to have her grandson's health restored to him. She lifted those watery eyes to Rumpelstiltskin in gratitude. "Thank you, milord. You don't know what this means to me. Please … please tell me how I can repay you."

          How in good conscience could he take from this poor family? From the meager furnishings and the obvious poverty surrounding him, he knew she owned nothing of value and nothing which would benefit his quest to find Bae. Her most treasured possession was her grandchild and even he wasn't so cruel as to take him from her. His eyes came to rest on the bubbling stew pot resting over the flames of the hearth and he felt his mouth water, his stomach growling loudly. "I think a bowl of your stew would be a fair price," he said, inwardly rolling his eyes. He was getting soft in his old age apparently. He didn't want to acknowledge that the old woman reminded him of the elderly spinster who had raised him what seemed like eons ago.

          "S-Stew?" she asked dubiously.

          He conjured a small bowl into his outstretched palm and handed it into her withered hands. "Stew," he confirmed with a nod.

          He didn't take more than they could afford to give, and left her with instructions on the boy's care, assuring her he would return to full health in a matter of days. He wolfed down the vegetable stew as he walked up the mountain to the Dark Castle, his mood lighter than it had been in a while. The joy of having his princess to correspond with could be the only reason, he thought gleefully as he stepped into the foyer, his amber gaze warming considerably as it fell upon the letter waiting for him in its usual spot.

          He didn't waste time walking down the corridor to his study, teleporting himself with magic into the chair at his desk as he began to read.

 

 

_My dear Rumpel—_

 

_I fear I may have misled you in my last letter when I mentioned I felt like a prisoner. My father has NOT locked me up per se, but he is rather strict. For the longest time I had a bevy of servants and guards watching my every move. But now that our betrothal has come to light, I have convinced him that aren't likely to storm the castle and steal me away. Now I've just Sarah and Mrs. Potts to attend me and Marcus and his squire to guard me. I have to say, it's quite liberating to have a modicum of freedom._

 

_Sarah is my dearest friend, but I fear she is terribly frightened I am encouraging a friendship between us. Her first suggestion upon learning of our betrothal was to hie me away on the first ship out of port._

 

          "The devil you say!" he thundered, bounding to his feet and pacing the rug before the small hearth. Who did this girl think she was, trying to help his betrothed escape him? There was no escaping the Dark One. It didn't matter where she tried to hide, he  _would_  find her. She was bound to him, belonged to him and him alone. There would be no hiding! His agitation fled at her next sentence.

 

 

_Don't fret, Rumpel, I have no intention of listening to any of her hare-brained schemes to escape my fate. I have every intention of doing my duty … provided I am happy with the deal on the day of my eighteenth birthday. I remain adamant in that, Rumpelstiltskin. If we can't at least be friends by then, I WILL refuse you._

 

          "We'll just see about that, dearest," he snarled at the parchment quivering in his hand which trembled with his simmering agitation.

 

 

_But for now, I have to say I'm a bit excited at the prospect of getting to know you. Therefore, I have a few questions…_

 

_The first is, have you ever been married? I'd like to know if I'm going to have to worry about an ex-wife showing up on our doorstep with a nasty attitude. Secondly, do you have any children? If so, how old are they? I will only be eighteen when we marry and I'm curious to know if I will be a stepmother as well as a wife. I know eighteen is more than an adequate age to be a wife and mother, but I would like to be prepared. Thirdly, I would like you to be honest with me and tell me the stories I have heard about your nefarious dealings are exaggerated and if they aren't I would like to know which are true and which are not. Do you make deals every day? More than once a day? What are they like? Surely, they aren't all for princesses you wish to marry. I will not tolerate a harem, Rumpelstiltskin!_

 

          He had to stop and brush away the tears of mirth from his eyes. Not married yet and already demanding his unwavering faithfulness. "As if any other woman would have me, darling," he said softly to the empty room. He frowned, the sound of genuine laughter ringing through the rooms of the Dark Castle as foreign as fairy wings and unicorns in the dark dwelling.

 

 

_And fourth, there are several things pertaining to your personal preferences I would like to know such as favorite food, hobbies, color, books and anything I may have forgotten that you may think I would find interesting._

 

          His jaw went slack as he continued to read. What was she doing, writing his autobiography? He dropped back down into the chair at his desk and ran a frustrated hand through his snarled head of curls. This would be so much easier if he could  _speak_  to her and he cursed the contract for the fourth time in as many days. And he still hadn't finished …

 

 

_I must admit this would be much more amiable if I could speak to you. These letters are nice, but I would so love to hear your voice and to look into your eyes. I know you won't come to me for fear of breaking the contract, but seeing you in person is my fondest wish. There must be some arrangement we can agree upon to meet with one another and avoid breaking the deal you made with my papa._

 

_Before I close, there is one more thing … do NOT call me DEARIE. I have a name, it's Belle. Use it! I look forward to your next letter._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Belle_

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin set the tip of the peacock quill to a fresh piece of parchment and smirked. She was an audacious little thing, demanding answers to her burning questions. And he would try his best to answer them without giving away anything too personal. It wasn't time to speak of his wretch of a wife or his precious son. Those answers would come in due time. He sealed the letter and rose to don his cloak. This letter he would deliver to Avonlea personally … to a sneaky little harpy who sought to urge her mistress to run from him. Perhaps he could convince her otherwise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I thought it would be good to see some of the lengths Maurice has gone to in order to break the contract, as well as see a more sympathetic side to Rumpelstiltskin. Our Dark One is misunderstood, yes? Thank you all so much for sharing your thoughts and comments with me. *love and hugs!!


	7. Chapter 7

 

          "It has come to my attention that you are conspiring to turn my Belle against me," came the high-pitched voice of the Dark One. Sarah spun around, clutching the cast iron frying pan she'd been busy drying to her ample bosom, her hazel eyes widening to the size of wagon wheels. "Who in the name of Hecate are you and what are you doing in my house?" she shrieked, recovering enough to brandish the frying pan before her as if it were a knight's prized broadsword.

          He shrugged and took a seat at the roughly hewn kitchen table. "We'll get to that. Isn't it customary to offer tea to a guest?" he hinted with a childish giggle. When she remained frozen near the washtub, he shrugged and snapped his fingers, a delicate china tea service appearing on the table before him. He watched her, amusement dancing in the depths of his warm amber eyes as he set about preparing himself a cup of the brew.

          Sarah mentally cursed … every curse word she knew … in three languages. Belle, being her best friend, definitely benefited from her vocabulary. What was she to do with the Dark One in her kitchen? What could he possibly want? "Leave my home," she said with false bravado, her eyes narrowing. "You weren't invited here."

          "I'm not a vampire, girl. I don't need an invitation."

          She snorted.

          He arched a brow and sighed wearily, sipping at his tea before he replied, "I mean you no harm, Sarah. There is no reason to fear me."

          "So sayeth the man who turned the butcher into a pig over in Stratham for slicing your bacon too thick … or so I've heard," she said, slamming the pan down on the counter and planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Or were the tales exaggerated?" she asked, daring him to deny it.

          Another giggle echoed through the small space. "I was merely having an off day." He poured tea into a second cup and set it on the table, scooting a chair out with the toe of his boot in a silent command for her to sit and join him.

          Sarah flopped down in the chair, her stomach churning with dread, but she refused to let him see her anxiety as she stirred a sugar cube and a dollop of cream into her tea. "What, no scones?" she asked saucily.

          "You're a brave little wench, aren't you?" he asked, flourishing his hand. A plate of warm blueberry scones appeared on the table between them … a peace offering of sorts. "Go on, dearie, they aren't poisoned," he retorted, giggling again when her hand hesitated as she'd been about to take one from the plate. He took one and bit into it, chewing slowly as she debated whether or not they still might be poisoned, and he was just immune.

          Unable to resist the smell of the delectable treat, Sarah took one and took a small bite. She had to choke back the moan of delight which threatened to bubble forth from her lips as the flavor of the warm buttery pastry burst over her palate. When he still hadn't harmed her by the time she finished her third scone, she asked, "Well, are you going to tell me what you want? I hardly think the Dark One would come all the way to Avonlea to have tea with a peasant."

          He scowled at her darkly. "I've come to warn you, dear Sarah."

          "About what? Belle?" she queried, remembering his earlier statement. "I assure you I haven't been conspiring to turn her against you. She doesn't need any help from me."

          He sprang to his feet, his cloak swishing about his legs. "Then I beg your pardon. There must be another Sarah in this quaint little village who tried to convince my darling betrothed to hop ship and try to flee the kingdom," he twittered.

          Sarah felt as though a trap had just closed with no escape for her. "She told you that?" she asked lowly, swallowing around the lump of fear which formed in her throat and threatened to choke her.

          "Indeed," he hissed, leaning closer, his face inches from hers.

          She inhaled sharply through her nose and lurched to her feet, meeting his stare and returning it with one of her own. She'd be damned if she'd let him threaten her in her own home. She didn't care who he was. "You can turn me into a nice squishy bug, you twisted little imp, and I will still try to protect Belle from your evil influence. She deserves better than you after what that old cantankerous jackass has put her through in her short life," she spat angrily, making her feelings for the king quite clear.

          Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback at her vehement declaration, torn between the desire to laugh at her courageous display or ask the numerous questions crowding his mind. He resumed his seat and steepled his fingers below his chin, opting for the questions. "Explain."

          The breath whooshed out of her in a great sigh of relief that he hadn't taken offense at her diatribe and turned her into something unpleasant. She sat down on the edge of the chair and frowned. "Explain what?"

          "What has Maurice done to my girl?" He was supposed to have raised her, nurtured her and cherished the darling girl. If he found out the old king had mistreated her …

          "He's kept her a virtual prisoner in her own home. Guards, maids, governesses, tutors, dance instructors! I don't think she's been alone a moment of her entire life … someone is always with her. I have to cause elaborate distractions, so she can slip away for a few moments of solace. She didn't find out until just days ago it was because of you," she fumed, pointing a dainty finger in his direction. "It's all your fault! If his majesty hadn't been terrified you would come to steal her away, Belle might have been able to grow up without feeling so stifled."

          "She wrote he had lifted the precautions somewhat. She's … ah … happier now?" he asked, a hopeful tone entering his voice.

          "A bit, perhaps," Sarah reluctantly agreed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. Why was he so concerned with Belle's happiness? She was merely another prize to be collected from a lucrative deal, wasn't she?

          He rose slowly to his feet, pacing the cramped space of her kitchen, his fingers rubbing restlessly against his thumbs. "Is there anything she desires? Gowns, jewels, chocolates? Anything?" he asked, not having the faintest idea what his lovely girl would dream of having. He couldn't give her what she desired most … for him to meet with her … but he could send a small token of his affection along with the letter.

          Sarah snorted. "You really don't know the first thing about her, do you, imp? I thought the king was required to send updates of her life each year. Surely you must have some inkling as to her true nature."

          "That fool!" he scoffed. "He would relate what he thought was pertinent information … how much she'd grown, how she was progressing in her lessons, how many languages she was proficient in and her love of learning … never anything personal."

          "Why her? Couldn't you have asked for another for your bride? Why did it have to be Belle?" she asked curiously, studying the nervous energy which seemed to surround him as though he were uncomfortable in his own skin. She would have been surprised to learn he  _wasn't_  comfortable when he was simply conversing with someone who hadn't called upon him to make a deal.

          "Perhaps I'll tell you someday, dearie. Now tell me what gift my Belle would like," he insisted.

          Sarah quirked a brow and propped her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. "No."

          "What?!"

          "No," she repeated more firmly.

          "I heard that! Why won't you tell me?" he asked, glaring at her incredulously. He wasn't used to having impertinent little girls telling him no without a hint of fear.

          "You didn't answer my question, why should I answer yours, hmm?" she sassed.

          "Because, dearie, I have magic and can give you a nice twitchy tail and a lovely wart on the end of your pretty nose if you don't answer my questions," he warned as he glowered down into her bright hazel eyes.

          "No, you won't. It would cause Belle distress and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" she asked, unable to hold back her own giggle. He lifted his hand to prove her wrong, magic crackling at the tips of his fingers and her laughter died. "Alright, fine. Belle couldn't care less about material possessions such as gowns and wealth and decadent treats. If you know anything at all about her, you should know she treasures her books above all else."

          A smug smile pulled at the corners of the sorcerer's mouth. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He knew of her love for books, but for once he'd wanted to give her something a bit more personal. Sighing, he pulled the letter he'd written from the pocket of his cloak and flourished his hand dramatically, summoning a small tome from his own library for his Belle. "Could I trouble you to deliver these to your mistress?"

          "You should deliver them yourself," she said, crossing her arms obstinately over her chest. "If you really want to give her a gift you should go to see her. She's done nothing but speak of you for days."

          "She has?" he asked, his lips twitching.

          "Belle is intrigued. You're a mystery to her and she's never been happy with an unsolved mystery, Rumpelstiltskin." Sarah cast him a gamine like grin, her pearly teeth gleaming in the glow of the lantern. "There's nothing in the contract saying you can't let her see you, y'know."

          "I doubt she'd appreciate seeing me, dearie," he said, his gaze shifting about the room, anywhere he wasn't forced to meet her knowing stare.

          "Belle might surprise you."

          "Perhaps, but not today." And with that he was gone, the book and his letter left on her table for her to deliver to her mistress the next day.

          Her fingers itched to break the seal on that letter to see what he might have written, having gained a new insight into what made the imp tick. Belle would have wanted to pummel her with something hard if she knew what Sarah had in her possession. It was going to be hard enough telling her Belle's betrothed had come to visit her instead of Belle this evening. She sprang to her feet and rushed into the den to grab her cloak, the items the imp had left clasped to her breast. She nearly knocked Marcus over as he stepped through the door.

          His strong arms reached out to steady her. "Sarah, love, where are you racing off to at this time of night?"

          "I have to see Belle…right now. Out of my way, you big lummox!" she exclaimed, struggling in his embrace. Switching tactics, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to her husband's lips. She really did love him, but her thoughts were swimming with what she had to do, and she didn't want to take the time to explain. He was dazed and breathless enough to loosen his grip and she slipped out the door and off into the night.

          Marcus scratched his head, a puzzled frown marring his brow before he shrugged and headed to the kitchen to see what she'd made for dinner. "Sometimes I wonder why I married her."

 

*.*.*

 

          Tristan, Marcus's squire, shook his head in resignation as Sarah held her finger to her lips and silently entered Belle's bed chamber. She knew he'd keep her secret and didn't have to worry about him sounding an alarm to have her booted from the castle. She tiptoed past Mrs. Potts' sleeping form on the little cot in an alcove set aside for her use. She had no worry about finding her way to the bed in the dark, knowing Belle's room as well as her own. She pulled the curtain aside on one side of the bed and climbed up on the mattress, shaking her friend to wakefulness with a gentle hand.

          "Go way," the princess murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was buried in. "Need sleep."

          "Do you think I would be here well past midnight if it weren't important?" Sarah hissed anxiously.

          "Sarah," Belle acknowledged with a wide yawn. "S'matter?"

          "Wait, let me get a candle," Sarah whispered, moving to slip her legs over the side of the bed. Belle reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her.

          "No need," she quietly assured her friend. She raised her hand toward the canopy over her bed and gave a sharp flick of her wrist, five tiny balls of light appearing over them to cast their glow over the occupants of the bed.

          "You're scary sometimes. You know that, right?"

          Belle snorted. "What are you doing here? You should be at home spending the evening with your husband."

          Sarah twirled a long ebony lock of her hair which had escaped her braid around her finger, a sure sign she was hiding something. "Before I tell you, I need you to promise you won't be angry."

          "Poseidon's beard! What have you done?" Belle asked, propping herself up on a mound of pillows and regarding her friend warily. She looked far too guilty for it to be something simple.

          "I had a visitor."

          "You woke me up to tell me you had a visitor?" Belle asked, breathing a sigh of relief. She was ready to throttle the girl for frightening her.

          Sarah grimaced, trying to find the words to explain. "It was rather unexpected."

          Belle waved a hand in a circular motion as if to tell her to get on with it. "Ok, so you had an  _unexpected_  visitor. How is this dire news and why would I be angry about it?"

          "Because it should have been you he'd come to visit instead of me," she said, thrusting the items she held into Belle's lap as if they were going to burn a hole through her hands if she held them a moment longer.

          Belle gasped as she looked down at the seal with which she'd become so familiar. Fury blazed through her as everything her friend had said fell into place. Sarah reached out and rubbed Belle's hands comfortingly between her own as the letter she held began to smoke. "It would be tragic for you to incinerate that letter before you had a chance to read it. Nice deep breaths, Belle."

          Belle forced herself to rein in the magic racing through her blood like a fiery inferno. She knew better than to let her temper get the better of her. That's how accidents happened. But once she let go of the anger, hurt surged up to take its place and she lifted her tear-filled cerulean eyes to her friend. "Why? Why would he come all this way and not come to see me?"

          "The contract," they said in unison.

          Sarah watched Belle brush her thumb over the seal of the letter, lost in thought and hurting to boot. "Stupid imp."

          Belle worried her lower lip thoughtfully before her lips twitched into a faint smile. "At least one good thing came of this."

          "Yeah? What's that?"

          "You can tell me what he looks like. You were so worried he was a beast. I'm sure if he were, that would've been the first thing to cross your lips when you barged into my room."

          Sarah pulled at the ties of her cloak and laid the garment across the foot of the bed. She reclined on the pillows next to Belle and twined her fingers with hers. "He looks like a man, Belle, but … different."

          "What do you mean,  _different_?"

          She decided to start with the imp's less alarming traits. "Well, he's not really tall. I'd say he's perhaps three or four inches taller than you and slender … wiry even. His clothes were very nice, richly made and well-tailored."

          "What color is his hair?" Belle asked, resting her head against Sarah's shoulder.

          "Brown … and curly. It's dying to see the bristly side of a hairbrush," she said, smiling when Belle giggled.

          "And his eyes? Does he have nice eyes, Sarah?" she asked, her own eyes closing as she tried to form a mental picture of her husband to be.

          "Um…"

          "What?"

          "Well, Belle, they're … ah … amber. Who has amber eyes, I ask you? And his skin has this greenish tint to it, but with these gold flecks beneath the surface. I wonder if he sparkles in the sunlight," she mused distractedly.

          "He sounds lovely," Belle whispered, holding the letter to her breast.

          "Are you daft?"

          "What? He does!" she insisted stubbornly. " _My_  husband will be unlike any other in the realm. It's fascinating! But it doesn't matter what he looks like, Sarah. The important thing is we get on well together."

          Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, thinking she would never understand some of Belle's wilder oddities. Belle finally turned her attention to the book in her lap, a delighted smile curving her rosebud mouth.  _The Mysterious Island_ , the only book in her Verne collection she'd been unable to attain. He'd sent her a book, something useful she would find pleasure in. He'd chosen well, her betrothed. Already her fingers itched to lift the cover and lose herself in the printed words, but first she needed to read something far more precious.

 

 

_My darling Belle,_

 

 

          Her smile widened at the endearment. Not princess or dearest. No, now he regarded her as his darling. A soft sigh escaped her as she read. Sarah, still lying at her side, groaned.

 

 

_I am relieved to hear your circumstances have improved. I would hate to have to speak to your father over such a matter. Your safety and well-being are a matter of great concern to me, but it pales in light of your happiness. Are you happy, dearest? Is there anything I might do to make you so?_

 

 

          "Bloody Hera! You're nigh swooning over there!" Sarah shrieked. Belle dropped the letter and shushed her, going so far as to smack her hand tightly over the girl's mouth.

          She listened intently as Mrs. Potts grumbled in her sleep and rolled over, the springs of the cot creaking under her ample weight. "Are you mad?!" Belle hissed. "Do NOT wake her up!"

          "But Belle —"

          "Hush or I'm going to send you home," she threatened. An empty threat, Sarah knew, but a threat nonetheless. Sarah glared at her, but held her tongue and settled back against the pillows once again.

 

 

_There WILL be a wedding, Belle, and it is my fondest wish you come to me willingly and in good faith. I would like you to be happy with our marriage instead of resigned, my Belle, and I will do all in my power to make it so. I am encouraged greatly that you wish to know me, and I will try to satisfy your curiosity._

 

_As to your questions … yes, I was married once, but she died a long time ago. There will be no need for you to worry about Milah showing up on our doorstep to bedevil you._

 

 

          Belle's stomach twisted viciously at the thought of Rumpelstiltskin having been married before. She found herself wishing she'd kept that question to herself. What if she was a pale comparison to his previous wife? Had he loved her? Would he constantly be thinking of his Milah when he was with her? She shook herself, willing her fears away. It was too soon to worry about that, she thought.

 

 

_I do have a son, but that is a conversation for later. He has been lost to me for many years and I find it very painful to speak of it. I promise to tell you the tale, just not at present._

 

 

          Sarah groaned again, and Belle swatted her. She had that soft, concerned and sympathetic look again and it didn't bode well … not at all.

 

 

_Must I tell you of my deals? I am not proud of some of the things I've done in the past, my Belle, and I don't want to frighten you with the tales. If you insist, I will tell you after we are wed. It will be a long conversation and better met with speech than in a letter._

 

 

          She shrugged. She could understand his reticence to reveal his nefarious dealings, but she wasn't about to let it go. It was a conversation for later, but it  _would_  happen.

 

 

_I find it rather amusing you would think I had a harem, dearest. I am not the kind of man who would disrespect my wife by bringing another woman into our home to usurp her place, much less take to my bed. That is reserved for you, my darling. I will be faithful to you and only you._

 

 

          Heat suffused her face and the breath hitched in her chest. It took every ounce of her resolve not to fan herself with the letter at his heated statement. Sarah rolled her eyes and then flopped over onto her side, giving Belle her back, unable to witness her friend's downfall.

 

 

_The remainder of your questions are easier to answer. My favorite food? I am quite partial to a rich lamb stew. I have simple tastes as I was just a poor peasant before I took on the curse of the Dark One. I do have a bit of a sweet tooth, however. Do you bake, perchance? If not, and you desire to learn, I would enjoy teaching you, my darling. I only have one hobby which I enjoy and that is spinning. It was my profession long ago and the soothing creak of the wheel and the repetitive motion of the craft bring me peace when I find my thoughts troubled._

 

 

          "Are you troubled very often, my Rumpel?" she whispered to herself.

 

 

_I do indeed share your love of books, my Belle. I have a vast library here at the Dark Castle just awaiting your arrival. I began collecting them centuries ago when I decided to further my education. And reading is a good way to stave off loneliness. It is comforting to lose yourself in a tale of adventure or even one of love, wouldn't you say? Do you think after we are wed, some evenings we could sit in the library and read together?_

 

 

          Belle nodded her head vigorously, trying to make his words form a picture in her mind's eye. She could see herself sitting with him on a cozy settee, her hip pressed to his as she settled in the crook of his arm, a book open between them and her head resting on his shoulder. A dreamy smile played on her lips at the image. Could it really be like that between them if she gave him the chance to truly be a husband to her? And when did she find herself  _wanting_  that? She'd always dreamed of having someone to love, someone who would love and care for her in return. Why couldn't it be Rumpelstiltskin? Perhaps in time she could have her heart's desire, after all.

 

 

_I do not have a favorite color, dearest … because I have yet to see the color of your eyes. I hope I have satisfied your curiosity … just a bit? I await your reply, my Belle._

 

_Yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          Belle reread the letter, his words affecting her just as strongly the second time as they had the first. She folded the parchment carefully and tucked it beneath her pillow for safekeeping, a happy smile on her lips as she snuggled under the coverlet and let Sarah's soft snores lull her to sleep, her dreams filled with her charming imp.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you to everyone for your support on the reposting of this fic. You have no idea how much it means to me. 
> 
> I hate to leave lengthy author’s notes, so I hope you will forgive me this one time. When I had to re-name this fic, I put the question to my writer’s group and let them offer up their suggestions. I liked the way this one rolled off the tongue, to be honest. Credit to Ladybugsmomma. Later, it was brought to my attention it was not the correct word usage. I only speak one language, English. I’m sorry if it offends because it’s not perfect, but I cannot – in good conscience – nag the very busy lady who made the cover to correct it. I sincerely hope it doesn’t prevent you from enjoying the story. 
> 
> If this note seems a bit snippy, please forgive me. I’m trying to stop smoking and I’m not very pleasant to be around right now. Love and hugs to you all.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

          Sarah sat up with a start, taking in her surroundings with a groan. "Belle?"

          "Hmm?" came the response from the vicinity of Belle's antique writing desk Maurice had given her for her twelfth birthday.

          The sun was just peeking through the curtains hanging over the ornate stained-glass window as she dragged herself to the end of the bed and pulled back the sheer hangings to see what her friend was up to. "You let me sleep here all night? Whatever will Marcus say? And what are you about so early?"

          "Yes, you stayed all night. I know how grumpy you are when someone disturbs your sleep," Belle chuckled. "And Marcus will no doubt be fine with it since he knows you are with me."

          "You're writing to him again?" she asked, her lip curling in disgust. "I can understand you wanting to get to know him, Belle, but I'm afraid you're becoming obsessed."

          "Rubbish! Now go get washed up and changed … you may use one of my gowns, so you don't have to go home only to come back. The spring green muslin would look lovely with your eyes."

          "You're deliberately avoiding the subject … Really, I can wear one of your gowns?" she asked, her mood lightening considerably as Belle completely derailed her train of thought.

          "Shh. Go!" Belle said, turning back to her letter and adding the finishing touches before sending it off to her betrothed.

          "Are you going to tell him?"

          "Tell him what?" Belle asked, her brows crinkling in a puzzled frown as she regarded her companion.

          "You know," Sarah said, wiggling her fingers. She knew better than to say the 'M' word where anyone could overhear.

          Belle paled, the thought never having entered her mind. "Don't be absurd, Sarah. Why would I tell him such a thing and have him regard me as a freak? He came into his power because of a curse, I … I was … ah … born this way. I want him to think of me as just another normal girl."

          Sarah wrapped her arms around Belle and hugged her tightly. "He wouldn't, Belle. At least, I don't think he would," she said in an effort to comfort her friend.

          "I don't even know why he would want me in the first place, Sarah," she muttered, her shoulders drooping. "I mean, why me? After being alone for so long, why would he choose me?"

          Sarah sighed. "Don't you know how wonderful you are? Any man would be a fool  _not_  to want you. Your papa still sees you as his darling little girl and thinks no one should want to have you for their own. He'd keep you locked in a tower if he were sure you wouldn't find some way to escape … all so he could keep you to himself forever. The lords and ladies of the court are intimidated by you because you are far smarter than any of them. And I just think you are remarkable and extraordinary. You give of yourself so freely and you love with your whole heart. The," she lowered her voice, "magic is just a part of you. I don't think it will make a difference to someone like him … especially once he gets to know you. He will love you in his own way, discover every wonderful thing about you, and thank the gods for bringing him to make that deal with your father."

          "You really think he will fall in love with me?" Belle asked, her eyes alight with hope. She didn't want to tell her friend she was already a bit taken with him even without the benefit of meeting him in person.

          Sarah linked her arm through Belle's and led her to the bathing chamber, so they could prepare for the day. "How could he not?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin sat in his chair at the end of the long dining table in the Great Hall of the Dark Castle and sipped absently at the tea in his cup. His chair faced the double doors, which were open, his eyes fastened on the ornate table which sat in the center of his foyer. His fingers drummed against the arm of the chair. He didn't want to miss seeing his beloved's letter arrive. 

 _Well. Just. Shit. When did I begin to think of her as my beloved? I've only ever once set eyes on the girl. Odin's beard! Did he love her? Could I be in love with her? It can't very well be lust if I don't know what she looks like. No, I don't love her … yet. Perhaps a strong infatuation._  He glowered up at the clock on the mantel.  _I'm being an idiot. The dear girl probably hasn't even climbed from her bed and I'm expecting a letter. Just because I haven't slept doesn't mean she hasn't._

          That didn't explain why he was on his feet in a flash and striding purposefully into the foyer to retrieve the letter she'd sent before it had even settled properly on the table. He slowed as he reached the double doors.  _I'm getting my hopes up. It could be any manner of requests from desperate souls all over the realm. It's not necessarily from her. All of my summons end up on that blasted table. I may have to find an alternate solution,_ he thought his heart leaping at the idea of sending her another gift.

          A wide smile blossomed on his thin lips as he recognized her looping pen and royal blue wax seal. He didn't move from where he stood, too impatient to hear her response to make the short walk to his study.

 

 

_My sweet Rumpel,_

 

_I was thoroughly charmed by your most recent letter. I'm sure you find it a waste of your time to correspond with what you must think of as a silly girl, but I am grateful nonetheless. My fascination with you grows with each letter and it makes my longing to meet you in person nigh unbearable._

 

 

"Oh, Belle, I would never think you a silly girl, my darling," he found himself murmuring as his eyes drank in her words.

 

 

_I want to walk in the garden with you, my Rumpel. I want to sit with you beneath my favorite plum tree and talk with you with only the breeze present to hear us and the scent of my roses permeating the air. I want to share my hopes and dreams with you and see if you might do the same for me. Are you afraid I might be frightened of you? Is that why you haven't devised some way to visit with me? Sarah told me last night of your appearance._

 

 

          He groaned, the sound echoing through the foyer. "Damn! Sarah," he fumed. "Why didn't I glamour myself before appearing to the dratted girl?"

 

 

_She described you in great detail and I assure you it doesn't change things between us. I want so badly to SEE you. Isn't there something we can do to change that part of the contract? Would it help to speak to my father? It would make our courtship so much simpler if we were allowed to spend time together. Is that something to which you would be amenable?_

 

 

          He found himself reaching for his cloak before he snatched his hand back. Rumpelstiltskin was so close to throwing caution to the wind and magicking himself to her side. He was ready to throw everything to the wayside just for a moment with his Belle. But he couldn't cast away a lifetime with her for just a wee moment in her presence.

 

 

_Thank you for your thoughtful gift, my Rumpel. I have searched through every shipment which comes to our bookseller, looking for this book. You couldn't have chosen any other which could have made me happier. But after your sweet words, now I feel saddened to read it without you. I find it would bring me joy to read with you in our library … together. Would you tell me more about my future home? Our home?_

 

 

          The fingers of his right hand rubbed together against his thumb, itching to pick up the quill to answer her questions. She'd said  _our_  home. Had she finally accepted that she  _would_  be his wife, that they would in fact share his home? Could he hope?

 

 

_I've read over our contract so many times I've almost memorized it and the part where you agreed to not 'see' me is rather vague. I need you to be very clear, my Rumpel. Does it just mean you can't see me in person? Could you look upon an image of me? It is a thought which weighs heavily upon my mind and I found myself needing to ask you. This is very important to me, so please send me an answer. I look forward to your response. Your letters have become a source of happiness in my life I would be greatly saddened to lose._

 

_Affectionately,_

_Belle_

 

 

          Affectionately? His blood warmed and settled in his face and neck at the thought of his little princess holding some affection for him … _him,_ the Dark One, the terror of myths and legend. And she was beginning to hold him in tender regard. Anyone who might happen upon him, standing there with a goofy grin upon his face, would think he'd lost his mind.

          Three letters had appeared on the table in the time it had taken to read the one from his Belle and he ignored them all as he walked down the corridor to his study to write out a reply. What was happening to him that he would ignore a potential deal to write love letters to his betrothed? But he found the allure of the deal, the desire for a signature on a contract paled in comparison to a sixteen-year-old princess and the promise of their future.

 

*.*.*

 

          "What is the meaning of this?" Maurice bellowed as he walked into the portrait gallery late that afternoon. The room was in an upheaval as four servants fought valiantly to remove the immense portrait from the wall bearing the image of his daughter. "What are you doing with that portrait? Belle, we just had that commissioned six months ago."

          "Thank you very much for all your assistance," she said, smiling at the servants who had struggled with the large painting. "Please have it packaged for shipping. I don't want it to become damaged in transit."

          "And just where are you sending it, if I may ask?" Maurice blustered. He had an idea, but he didn't even want to contemplate it.

          "I told you I'm not speaking to you," Belle said, shooting a warning glance at Sarah as she snorted.

          Heat suffused the king's already ruddy complexion, giving him the coloring of a ripe tomato. "This is ridiculous!"

          "And you are an imbecile, Papa!"

          "Belle! You are being childish."

          Cerulean eyes, so like his own, narrowed angrily. "How is it childish I wish to meet my fiancé? If it were any other man you'd made a betrothal contract with, he would be welcome in our home. Why not Rumpelstiltskin? You're being petty and spiteful."

          "I am trying to protect you, daughter. Why can't you understand? I am going to find a way out of this contract before you are forced into marriage with that monster. You will never have need to meet him," he said, trying to reason with her.

          "You are never going to be released from it!" she yelled back at him, seeing as how this was the only way she seemed to speak with him of late. "You haven't been able to find a way out in sixteen years, what's another two going to gain you? Nothing! He  _will_  be my husband and there's nothing you can do about it. There's no reason for you to keep him from me now."

          Maurice removed his cap and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "There's every reason to keep him from you. I will not have you consorting with that fiend!"

          "What is wrong with you? He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our forthcoming nuptials. He would be just as any other man coming to Avonlea to court me." She tried changing her tactics and her tone became cajoling, the same tone which usually got her exactly what she wanted from her adoring papa. "If you would let him see me, I might have a chance to get to know him a little before we are wed. It could only benefit me if I felt a modicum of comfort with the man I will wed, the man I will share my life with … have children with."

          Which was exactly the wrong thing to say to her overprotective father. "NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! Forget it, Belle. Just get this insane notion out of your head and let me continue to find the answers we seek."

          "Please, papa?" she pleaded.

          "I'm sorry, daughter, but I will not change my mind." He stormed out of the gallery without another word, completely forgetting their argument over the portrait. He couldn't let that monster near his precious daughter before his last option had been depleted. If he had his way, that trickster would never set eyes on his daughter.

          Belle rolled her eyes as she watched him go. As much as she loved him, he would forever be a stubborn jackass when it came to protecting her. But how could he possibly hope to protect her from her betrothed? They were to be married and from what she'd been reading from his wonderful letters, he would be more likely to do harm to himself than to allow any harm to come to her. Why couldn't her papa see that perhaps it was fate which had brought the dark sorcerer to them in the first place?

          Sarah wrung her hands, aggravated with the king for causing Belle so much unwarranted sadness. She may still have more than her fair share of doubts where Rumpelstiltskin was concerned, but even she couldn't see the harm in letting them meet. Belle deserved to have a normal courtship before her marriage … well, as normal as one could expect being betrothed to the Dark One. "You know he's going to be quite unbending about this, don't you?" she asked, linking her arm through Belle's and leading her out of the portrait gallery.

          "I've accepted this, Sarah, why can't he? He made the deal after all. He knew this was going to be an inevitability."

          "At least you have your letters," Sarah said with a bright smile, causing Belle to release a huff as she fought to stave off her giggles.

          "Yes, we do at that, but I just … I don't know … I have this craving to hear his voice …"

          "It is quite unique …"

          "To look into his eyes when he speaks to me …"

          "If you can get past the unusual color and size …"

          "Sarah!"

          They were giggling as they entered Belle's bedchamber, the princess stopping short as her eyes spied the large box sitting atop the coverlet on her bed, a letter attached just beneath the ribbon. Sarah shook her head and set about sending a servant for tea and a light repast as Belle made straight for her gift, flopping onto her bed and tearing into the ribbons and paper to see what was inside.

          "Oh!" Belle breathed as she took in the ornately carved box. It held parchment and wax and a spot to store her seal, several beautiful quills and a pot of ink, everything she would need to continue with her correspondence. "This is so lovely."

          "Well, at least now you know he expects you to keep writing to him," Sarah said with a knowing smirk and a laugh in her bright hazel eyes. "Are you going to read the letter?"

          "Yes, yes of course," Belle said, digging through the discarded wrapping to find the true prize. Her thumb brushed lovingly over the Dark One's seal before breaking it and unfolding the parchment to read his elegant script.

 

 

_My darling Belle,_

 

_How could you ever believe I would think of you as a silly girl? Just from the tone of your letters I can deduce what an intelligent and delightful woman you are. My life with you will never be boring. I share your desire to meet, my darling, but I don't think it would be wise at this time. I admit I am somewhat hesitant to reveal myself to you as I am not pleasing to the eye. I am hoping if you come to care for me … who I really am … my beastly countenance will make little difference._

 

 

          Tears burned at her eyes, her hand coming to cover her mouth to hold back the sob threatening to burst forth from her lips. "Oh, Rumpel, I do care. It wouldn't matter if you had horns and a tail," she murmured.

          "What was that? Who has horns?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide with alarm as she took the tea tray from the servant who had just entered and carried it over to the coffee table beside the hearth.

          "Shh," Belle scolded gently, her eyes flying over the words he'd written just for her.

 

 

_Have you, my darling? Have you come to care for me … just a bit … as I am coming to care for you? I am pleasantly surprised you are curious about my home. I hope you will find happiness here. It is a castle, dearest, much bigger than what suits me as I have no one, not even servants, to share it with. Only my treasures I've collected over the years fill its halls. It longs for the day you arrive to fill it with your light and laughter. I've enclosed a drawing of the Great Hall for you to see for yourself. I will enclose a drawing with each of my letters so by the time we are wed, you will have seen every room and square inch of the grounds. Does this please you, my darling?_

 

 

          Belle rifled through the pages until she came to the last page where a drawing drew a gasp of delight from her lips. It was a detailed sketch of the Great Hall of the Dark Castle depicting a large stone hearth, so detailed she could almost feel the warmth of the flames. Two wingback leather chairs and a low table holding a tea service was set before it. A long dining table with a solitary chair was set in the middle of the room. That solitary chair caused a twinge of pain in the vicinity of her heart as she imagined him all alone, having no one with whom to share the simple joy of a meal.

          His grand spinning wheel was set in a corner and a number of pedestals dotted the room, each holding a piece of his vast collection. But what saddened her the most was the absence of light, the room lit by candlelight instead of having the sun shine its warming rays into the room. It was lovely, and she couldn't wait to see more, but she was saddened he was hiding himself in the darkness.

 

 

_I too long to share the simple pleasure of spending time with you, but that will have to wait. The time will pass swiftly, my Belle, so fret not. You father, from what I know of him, will never relent and let me see you. We will have to be content with our correspondence. That is something he will not be able to take away from us. I've sent you this antique secretary for your use. The parchment is enchanted. You have but to sign my name to the front and it will come to me immediately wherever I am instead of mixed in the normal pleas and summons I receive day to day. I don't want to miss one of your letters if I should happen to be away from my home attending to business._

_As to the contract and the stipulation your father made, I believe it pertains to seeing you in person. An image of you? Could you be more specific? What are you contemplating in that brilliant mind of yours, my darling?_

 

 

          A gamine-like grin, one which would have made the sorcerer proud, curled her lips. "Wouldn't you like to know, my sweet imp?"

 

 

_Have you begun reading your new book? I look forward to hearing your thoughts and I too regret we aren't able to read it together. Once you are my wife, there will be nothing to stop us from enjoying it together. I yearn to hear your voice, my darling Belle, never doubt that. I look forward to your next letter._

 

_Yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          "You're swooning again," Sarah remarked dryly over the rim of her cup.

          "You would be too if your Marcus had written such lovely letters to you during your courtship," Belle said, moving her gift over to her desk to sit down and compose her response.

          "You're probably right." She prepared Belle a cup of tea and carried it over to the desk, realizing the princess wouldn't take time out of her letter writing even for afternoon tea. "So, what are you going to do with the portrait you had removed from the gallery?"

          Belle smiled. "How do you think Marcus would feel about a trip to the Dark Castle to make a little delivery, hmm?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to all of you for supporting this humble fic and thank you all for your wonderful reviews and comments. You make it a joy to write for you.


	9. Chapter 9

 

_Six months later…_

 

_My darling Belle,_

 

_Why haven't you responded to my last letter? Have I said something to upset you?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My sweet Rumpel,_

 

_Of course not! Your letter was lovely, sweetheart. You've done nothing to upset me, but you must give me time to sit down and write it. Papa has me attending a rather odious affair. I'm to entertain several delegates visiting him this week to discuss a new trade route they're trying to establish, and it will bring new opportunities through our kingdom._

 

_Bored to tears!_

_Belle_

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin smiled up at the portrait of his beloved where it hung over the desk in his study. The knights Belle had sent to deliver it had been less than enthused with that particular task. Who in their right mind would actually enjoy a trip to the lair of the Dark One on such a mundane task?

_With a quick flourish of his elegant hand, the great entry doors of the Dark Castle opened to reveal a … wagon … in his courtyard. What in seven hells? he thought irritably, arching a brow at the two knights standing before him as he crossed his arms over his chest. The driver of the wagon hadn't even dismounted, apparently leaving the stalwart knights to carry out their task so they could leave with all haste._

_The raven-haired knight removed his helmet and bowed respectfully…which was why Rumpelstiltskin didn't immediately turn him into a snail and remove him to the garden. "Milord, good day to you. The lady Belle, high princess to the throne of Avonlea sends her regards and a gift."_

_A gift? For him? Surely a mistake had been made. Princesses … even one he was betrothed to … did not send gifts to the Dark One. No one did. "A gift? Are you sure you haven't mistaken me for someone else?" he asked, his feelings on the matter hidden behind a bland mask._

_Marcus waved off the knight who'd accompanied him, sending him back to the wagon to retrieve the package nestled in the bed. "You are Rumpelstiltskin, are you not? Lady Belle's betrothed?" he asked in a voice which wouldn't carry back to the others._

_"I am," Rumpelstiltskin admitted ruefully._

_"Then there has been no mistake. The gift I've been entrusted to deliver is indeed meant for you." He grinned cheekily and stepped aside to allow Edmond to carry the portrait over the threshold and into the foyer._

_Rumpelstiltskin ignored the two knights as they set the package on the floor and leaned it against the table. His fingers itched to reveal what his girl had deemed so important as to send it to the Dark Castle. Was it something she wanted here in her new home to enjoy once they married?_

_"Milord, Lady Belle has instructed me to watch you open it. She was very insistent," Marcus said after he'd sent the lesser knight out to wait with the driver._

_"Why would she want you to do that?" the sorcerer asked, clearly surprised at the bold statement. Although he had no doubts of how insistent she could be when she thought it necessary._

_Marcus sniggered. "I believe she wanted me to gauge your reaction." He then removed a small silver dagger from his belt and held it out to the imp._

_Rumpelstiltskin smirked up at the knight and accepted the offering, more than a little curious as to what the packaging contained. Very carefully, he cut the cords and drew away the burlap covering, gasping at what had been revealed. All rational thought left his brilliant mind, his heart thundering and the breath lying stagnant in his oxygen-starved lungs as he gazed for the first time on the angelic face of his betrothed. She was indeed breathtakingly beautiful. The fairest he had ever laid eyes upon in the three and a half centuries he had walked the realms. And she was his. A gown of robin's egg blue silk swathed her curvy frame and his hands prickled with the desire to wrap around her waist and pull her to him. A serene smile curved her perfect rosebud mouth and laughter twinkled at him from the depths of her cerulean eyes._

_"Milord?"_

_"Huh…what?" the imp murmured, his complete attention focused on the portrait._

_Marcus chuckled, knowing his friend would be pleased to know her betrothed was completely taken with her gift. "She sent this as well," he said, handing over a small folded slip of parchment with her seal upon it._

_Rumpelstiltskin finally focused his gaze on the amused man and snatched the missive from his gloved hand. "You may go," he said, waving a hand toward the door, dismissing him. Somehow, he was able to refrain from losing himself in Belle's elegant script until his guests had departed and the doors to the Dark Castle were sealed once more._

 

 

_My sweet Rumpel,_

 

_Are you pleased with my gift? I don't think it's fair that both of us have to remain in the dark. I must admit I had an ulterior motive for sending this to you. I'm hoping you might find my outward appearance so pleasing, you will be unable to resist paying me a visit. I think it only fair now that you have seen me, don't you?_

 

_Affectionately,_

_Belle_

 

 

_"Dear Gods! She's Aphrodite personified, sent to lure me to my doom with wanting," he declared to the empty foyer. He tucked her letter inside his vest and lifted the portrait, carrying it down the corridor to his study to hang on the wall over his desk. He'd be able to spend hours gazing at her as he poured his heart into his letters. She was a sneaky little minx, knowing the longer he gazed at the portrait, the more difficult it would be to stay away._

_For a heartbeat, he mused that she was deliberately trying to coax him into visiting her, so she could trick him into breaking the contract. He quickly shoved it into the back of his mind, refusing to let his fears and self-doubt poison his heart against her. She cared for him, would one day soon, perhaps, love him. He wouldn't place her in the same category as the other nobles he dealt with. Belle was unique, special and would be treated by him as such._

_Now he found himself with a new dilemma … lust. He could feel the once familiar heat coiling through his blood and pooling in his abdomen, tightening his loins. How long it had been since he'd felt desire for a woman, he couldn't remember. Well, he could, but the mere thought of that vicious harpy was a betrayal to his Belle and he was unwilling to dwell upon it. Instead, he sat at his desk … cursing his fashion sense and the vain impulse which made him wear leather pants … already composing his answer to her letter in his mind._

 

 

_My darling Belle,_

 

_It has been many centuries since last anyone thought to give me a gift, and none which have brought me such untold pleasure. Thank you, sweetheart; I will treasure it always. I've hung it above the desk in my study, so I may gaze upon you as I write this letter. Your beauty astounds me, and I feel unworthy to bask in the glow of your countenance. Alas, I will not fall to temptation and come to Avonlea to see you, dearest. I cannot. It will not be long until we are wed, and I can gaze upon your true self, but for now I am bound by our contract and I will not risk losing you for the sheer joy of seeing your lovely face. Be patient, dear heart._

 

_Yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

_She'd been so distraught he hadn't come to her, she'd had Sarah write to him instead. The vicious little minx had sent back …_

 

 

_Imp,_

 

_Isn't it a bit early in your relationship to screw things up? You dunderhead! Whatever you broke in my friend, you'd better fix it … now!_

 

_Sarah_

 

 

_He'd sent an entire crate of books for her library. That had coaxed his Belle out of her upset and she'd seen fit to send him letters discussing each tome she read. And though he knew it distressed her greatly that he wouldn't come to see her, she didn't ask again. It worried him a bit, but from the tone of her many letters, sometimes two a day, she seemed happy._

          Rumpelstiltskin shook his head to dispel his thoughts of the past and grinned down at her most recent letter, describing the state dinner she had been forced to attend. Had it really been six months they'd been writing to one another? How had she burrowed her way into his heart so quickly?  _Well_ , he thought,  _not so much burrowed as swam the moat and grappled over the walls to claim it as her own. Who knew I even had a heart behind all the carefully constructed walls?_ He took up his quill and began his reply …

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_Can't you feign a headache and retire to your library or some such quiet place? Although I'm certain no place you go will be quiet when you constantly have Sarah at your side._

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

          Her answer was quick, and he was forced to wonder where she'd hidden a quill if she were attending a formal dinner. No doubt she had Sarah standing behind her chair lugging about her secretary with all the materials required to correspond with him.

 

_Rumpelstiltskin,_

 

_Be nice. I'm fortunate to have a friend such as Sarah. I would be incredibly lonely without her._

 

_Belle_

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_I'm sorry, sweetheart. I meant no offense to the little shrew. And you didn't answer my earlier inquiry … what would you like for your birthday? It's only three days away, my Belle, and you've yet to tell me._

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_You._

 

_Belle_

 

 

          He shivered, picturing the sultry pout of her lips and the heavily-lidded passion in her crystalline eyes as that single word slipped from her lips.

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_You know I cannot._

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_And if that is all I want for my birthday? To see you, to walk in the garden with you, to … touch you?_

 

_Belle_

 

 

          A thousand naughty thoughts stampeded through the corners of his mind, sending a thrill of desire tripping along the base of his spine.

 

 

_Belle,_

 

_Darling, you cannot say such things!_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel_

 

_I can, and I will. You could always choose not to read my letters. But you asked what I wanted and that is the only thing which will make me happy. I suppose you will have to skip it this year. After all, I will have you next year on my birthday, won't I?_

 

_Belle_

 

 

          She was going to be the death of him. His dagger was reputed to be the only thing capable of his destruction … until he'd dealt for a simple slip of a girl from Avonlea.

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_I am the Dark One, my darling. I could shower you with jewels, send you a gown of the finest silk the same color to match your lovely eyes, or more books than the ancient library of Alexandria. Why must it be me? Why must you torture me with the knowledge you would want me more than a pretty bauble?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_Because I … Because you mean more to me than jewels or gowns or even my precious books. You're all I want. I have an idea I really think would work. You would have to trust me, however. Do you trust me, my Rumpel?_

 

_Belle_

 

 

          He tossed the letter to his desk in disgust, more with himself than with his beloved. The icy hand of fear clutched at the blackened husk which served as his heart. Did he trust her? She'd never given him a reason not to, but he didn't trust anyone and hadn't for more years than he cared to think about … not since Baelfire. Just because she was to be his betrothed didn't mean he could trust her completely, he argued with himself … or rather the Dark One argued with the spinner he'd once been.

          No, it was time he trusted her. Winter had foreseen it, and who was he to argue with her? She'd existed longer than the dark demon who inhabited his soul, and was even older than Rheul Ghorm herself. If she did happen to be wrong, he would still give it his all for a moment with his betrothed. He craved her more than the air he breathed, and he found he didn't have the will to deny her any longer.

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Yes, I trust you. It isn't easy for me to trust anyone, my darling, but yes, I trust you and you alone. What do you have in mind?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_Truly? You will consider it?_

 

_Belle_

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Yes, I will consider it. Now what is this plan you and the nag have concocted?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_Oh, I can hardly contain my excitement. On the night of my birthday, I need you to come to Sarah's house. Marcus is on duty, so she will be alone. She will explain everything. Just please come._

 

_Belle_

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_This is such a bad idea._

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_My Rumpel,_

 

_No, it's not! Everything will be fine … our plans have a success rate of ninety two percent. It will work, and I will have you all to myself on my birthday. Once you see how ingenious this is, you will be able to court me properly._

 

_Belle_

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin laid down his quill and rubbed his hands over his face, already regretting what had been set into motion. There was entirely too much potential for disaster and he was regretting his decision to acquiesce to her request.

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Please tell me what you have planned?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_Stop worrying. I promise you will not be disappointed. You've promised, have you not? That you will come?_

 

_Belle_

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Yes, I promise._

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_And I will hold you to it. I know you never break your word. Frankly, I am becoming quite irritated with this contract, Rumpelstiltskin._

 

_Belle_

 

 

_Dearest,_

 

_What do you mean?_

 

_Rumpel_

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_I will tell you in three days' time when you come to visit me._

 

_Belle_

 

 

          "Damnation!"

 

*.*.*

 

          "Are you looking forward to your birthday gala, daughter?" Maurice asked, looking down at the top of her chestnut curls. She had her arm linked with his for an amiable stroll through the garden before dinner, yet she seemed to be in another world. "Belle?"

          "Yes, Papa. Can't you tell I'm just oozing with excitement?" she asked in a snarky tone.

          "I thought you enjoyed the ball I hold for you every year," he remarked sulkily. She had been so distant lately, he didn't want to say the wrong thing to risk a reappearance of her temper.

          "I usually do to an extent. I don't care so much for some of the guests, but overall it's quite nice."

          "I hear a  _but_  coming," he mumbled under his breath.

          "But this year I have a betrothed and I can't even invite him to attend."

          Maurice dropped down onto one of the many benches scattered about the garden and mopped his sweaty face with a handkerchief. "Not this again."

          "It would be the best birthday present you could ever give me, Papa. Won't you please reconsider and let me invite him to the ball?" she asked, her eyes large and pleading. She knew what a difficult time he had telling her no, but he'd remained steadfast in his decision to keep them apart.

          "No, daughter, I will not reconsider."

          She sat down beside him and rested her head against his shoulder, surprising him with the small display of affection. "I love you, Papa, you know that don't you?"

          He slipped his arm around her and hugged her tightly, tears springing to his eyes as he whispered, "Of course I do, daughter. I love you so much. I am just trying to protect you. It warms my heart to know I haven't turned you against me with my refusals."

          She turned her loving gaze on her parent and smile sadly. "You know you don't have to lose me, papa. When I marry Rumpel, I don't have to give you up. There will be visits between us. Or there could be if you were willing to bend. Wouldn't it be better to have a good relationship with your son in law than one built on hatred and dishonesty?"

          The king sighed wearily. "I don't think it would be possible, my darling. You need to realize he's not a man. He's a trickster and a demon. He will destroy you, my girl, and I have to stop him."

          "What if there is no way to break the contract, papa? Would you be able to accept him as part of your family then?" she asked, measuring her words carefully. It didn't matter what her father did, she was committed to her imp. She loved him with her whole heart and had for quite some time now. She may have never laid eyes upon him, but she could no more cut him from her life than she could grow gills and live with the mermaids. Nor did she want to. The days until her wedding ticked away at a snail's crawl, much to her dismay. But she regretted her father couldn't accept him. She didn't want to lose the love of her parent because she’d chosen her betrothed to spend her life with. She wanted … no deserved … to have them both in her life.

          "I don't know, daughter. I cannot abide the thought of him taking you away to that castle of his up in the mountains where there will never be an escape for you. The thought torments me until I fear I will go mad."

          For one insane moment, she thought of asking if he'd like to see sketches of her new home, but then thought better of it, sure he would take to his bed with an apoplectic fit. "It will be fine, papa, you'll see. Everything will work out as it was destined to be," she said, trying to comfort him. She rose to her feet and bid him to stand, linking her arm through his once more. "Come, let's see what Adelaide has prepared for our dinner. I find myself quite famished."

          Her father cast her an indulgent smile and led her along the familiar pathways which would lead them to the dining hall.

 

*.*.*

 

          "This is never going to work! You've cracked your gourd!" Sarah hissed in a strangled gasp as Belle related her plan for the evening of her birthday ball.

          "It _will_ work," Belle said with a confident smile. "Oh, ye of little faith. My schemes always work and if it doesn't, I will simply…"

          "You'll what?"

          "Well, I haven't quite thought that far ahead."

          "This has epic fail written all over it," Sarah argued.

          "Does not!"

          "Does too!"

          "Fine!" Belle huffed, dropping down onto the bed in her room and covering her head with a pillow.

          "So, when are we supposed to do this?" Sarah asked, sighing resignedly, unwilling to cause her friend unhappiness when there was something she could do to grant her fondest wish of seeing her betrothed.

          "Really? You'll help me, Sarah?" Belle said, her face alighting with excitement.

          "Yes, yes, I'll help," Sarah retorted sulkily, picking at a loose thread on the bodice of her emerald gown. "Although I'll probably wind up as a canary when you're done with me. You've never tried this spell before."

          "I've been practicing for a month, just waiting for my birthday when I was sure to be able to convince Rumpel to come to Avonlea. I promise I won't mess this up. Trust me," she replied, hugging her friend warmly.

          "You'd better hope to the gods you don't. I really don't want to have to explain this to Marcus."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I truly do love Sarah. I think everyone should have a friend like her :D I want to thank everyone for all the lovely comments and reviews. Y’all are truly the best. Who knows … perhaps reposting all the Rumbelle fics I took down might inspire me to write something new. xoxox


	10. Chapter 10

 

          "What about the emerald gown?" Belle said, perusing the selection of ball gowns Sarah had extracted from her wardrobe and laid out on the bed. "Or the purple?" She'd refused to allow her father to order her a new gown for the simple fact her wardrobe was already chocked full. There was no reason why she couldn't wear one she already had.

          "Belle, just pick one for Freya's sake! It's not like Rumpelstiltskin will even be able to see you in it," Sarah hissed, not wanting her voice to carry to the maids bustling about the room helping Belle prepare for the ball. "Next you'll be wanting to dress to match and that is completely ridiculous."

          Belle ignored her and held up the silk gown of robin's egg blue she'd worn to sit for the portrait which now hung in Rumpelstiltskin's study at the Dark Castle. "Perfect! He won't have to see me to know what I look like in this one."

          "Belle, love, you could wear a burlap sack and still look beautiful," Sarah twittered, chuckling as she followed Belle over to the vanity and began running a brush through her long chestnut tresses.

          Belle could hardly remain still through the tedious process of pinning her curls to her crown, her thoughts on the evening ahead. She was finally going to  _see_  Rumpelstiltskin! She had to focus all her concentration on remaining calm to keep her magic in check. It hadn't taken her long to realize the stronger the emotion, the more likely she was to lose her firm grip on her magic. That was not what she needed tonight. Her father would have a stroke and she didn't want to have to worry about his health when her heart's desire was nearly within her grasp.

          Sarah dismissed the maids as she fastened the last button on the back of Belle's gown and stepped back to take her in. "Beautiful," she murmured, smiling at her friend. "If he could see you, you'd take his breath away."

          "Are you ready to go down?" Belle asked, pressing a hand to her throat, feeling as though her heart were about to take flight.

          Sarah quirked a questioning brow. "I thought you were going to … you know," she said, wiggling her fingers.

          Belle shook her head. "No, we'll go out into the garden. It will be easier for you to slip out the east gate than it would be for you to leave from here. I may be able to teleport myself all over the castle, but I'd be afraid to try to magic you to your home. What if I missed?"

          Sarah closed her eyes, her stomach churning viciously at the thought of Belle using her magic on her. There was a good possibility half of her would end up in the Infinite Forest and the other half in the sea. "I still don't like this plan, Belle."

          "Yes, so you’ve said … numerous times,” she scoffed in a dry tone. “Hush, Sarah, it will be fine."

          They made their way down the long corridors and into the ballroom, taking the time to greet the king and his advisors before skirting around the dance floor to slip out onto the terrace and into the garden. Sarah slipped her arm from Belle's and went to the fourth rose bush from the gate where she'd hidden her cloak, pulling it about her shoulders and fastening the clasp. Dusk was slipping away into darkness and the servants had just lit the last of the torches to illuminate the garden in a romantic glow, the pathways now deserted.

          Belle pulled her into a warm embrace. "Thank you, Sarah, for doing this for us. I know Rumpel isn't your favorite person in the world, but it means so much to me that you would help me spend time with him."

          "I just want your happiness, Belle," Sarah said, pulling away from her friend's embrace, yet retaining the light clasp of their hands. "He can't be all bad if you love him so much."

          Belle's smile was blinding at her companion's acceptance of the sorcerer who had stolen her heart with his letters. "Alright, are you ready?"

          "This isn't going to go against the rules of the contract, is it?"

          "No, because you'll still be you. You'll just look like me on the outside. Just remember everything we discussed about how you're to act once you take my place in the ballroom. Papa  _cannot_  know you are me," Belle warned, taking a deep breath and focusing herself on the task at hand.

          Sarah squinched her eyes closed, her face drawn and tight with fear. Her skin prickled with warmth as she felt Belle's hands settle on her face, slowly moving from her chin, up over her cheeks and smoothing over her hair. Dizziness made her stumble back a step, but Belle's hands where there on her upper arms to steady her.

          "Are you alright?" Belle asked, her voice tinged with concern. "You look marvelous, by the way," the princess murmured, admiring the identical coiffure and ball gown. It was like looking into a mirror. She was inordinately pleased with herself that she was gaining a firmer grasp on the magic which dwelled within her.

          Sarah opened her eyes and blinked several times, not feeling the slightest bit different than she usually did. Although she seemed to be two inches shorter and the height difference was noticeable. "You shrank me!?"

          "SHHHHH!" Belle hissed, smacking her hand over Sarah's gaping mouth. "You're not really shorter; it's the spell."

          "I'm sure Marcus will notice if I'm several inches shorter, Belle! What if I stay this way? How in seven hells are we ever going to explain this?!" she asked frantically.

          "Six hours, Sarah. It will wear off in six hours. That will give us until one o'clock. You won't even turn into a pumpkin at the witching hour," Belle teased. Sarah turned her wide eyes on her and a tiny whimper escaped her parted lips. "Come now, deep breaths. You have to hurry if you're to fetch Rumpel from your house."

          Sarah scowled at her dearest friend, squared her shoulders, pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair and slipped out of the gate. Belle giggled, unable to help herself. She imagined this was what it would have been like to have a twin sister. Shortly, she'd be back and with her … Rumpelstiltskin. She turned on her heel and followed the path which would lead her back to the ballroom, nearly giddy with anticipation.

 

*.*.*

 

          Sarah kept her head down and the hood of her cloak pulled low over her face, her pace swift as she traversed the road leading to her modest home just a short distance from the castle. Several villagers waved and tried to greet her as she passed, her crimson cloak recognizable to so many, but she ignored them all, her mission clear. The kitchen was pitch black when she entered, Marcus on duty tonight as Belle's guard … or rather hers if things went according to plan. A piercing shriek rent the air as she struck a match to light the candle set in the center of her kitchen table as her now blue eyes met a pair of wide amber ones.

          Long-fingered spinner's hands gripped her upper arms with more strength than one with such a lithe frame should possess and it took every ounce of her will not to recoil from the unmitigated fury evident in his gaze. "You tricked me," he hissed. With a thought, light illuminated the homey kitchen and he was drinking her in, his eyes devouring every inch of her face. "How could I have been so stupid?!"

          "Well, you have that part right, imp," she drawled in an icy tone. The pointy toe of her silk slipper connected sharply with his shin and he yowled, releasing her abruptly. "I should get my frying pan out and bash some sense into that thick head of yours."

          "Sarah?" he asked, his mouth gaping in astonishment

          "And who else would it be? This is my house after all."

          He leaned forward and sniffed. "You reek of magic, woman. What have you and my girl been up to?"

          "Oh, now she's your girl again? Just moments ago, you thought she'd tricked you into coming here to break the contract. Ass!"

          His eyes narrowed on her for her cheek, but his curiosity was too great. "Who helped you with this little glamour spell to aid my Belle with her deception?"

          Her gaze dropped to her hands and she plucked at the sapphire and diamond bracelet wrapped about her wrist. "You think you're the only being with magic in this kingdom? Belle's family is patronized by a very powerful fairy and there are a hedge witch or two who live right here in Avonlea. If one is willing to pay for their services, they are all too willing to help," she said, evading the question so as not to betray Belle's secret.

          Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head to the left and regarded her for a long moment until he thought sure she would expire on the spot from holding her breath. "Hm. Methinks there is more to this than you are telling me." When she didn't see fit to answer him, he let it go for the time being and asked, "So what is this plan of yours to allow me to be with my betrothed?"

          Sarah grimaced, her pert little nose wrinkling with distaste. "I'm to take Belle's place at the ball so she can spend the evening with you."

          "You?" he scoffed. "You're going to take her place among her peers, her father?"

          Sarah arched a brow and glared at him. "And what's so amusing about that? You think I can't be Belle for one evening?"

          "Oh, most assuredly … until you open that sassy mouth of yours and betray the both of you," he said with a knowing smirk. She looked like Belle down to the last detail, but he knew they were worlds apart in their speech. Belle might be a saucy little minx, but she wasn't crass, and she tended to be a bit more cultured in her speech.

          "Don't you worry about me, imp. I can bandy words with those nobles right along with the best of them. Belle wouldn't have trusted me with this task otherwise," she said, smoothing her hand over her skirts.

          "Alright. Shall we go? I think we've kept my girl waiting long enough," he said, extinguishing the candles with a wave of his hand and leading her to the door. Once they were on the cobblestone path leading up to the castle, he broached the subject which had been bothering him for days. "How do you propose to keep me from seeing Belle?"

          Sarah bit her lip to stifle a giggle, imagining the imp's wide-eyed astonishment when she confided the simplicity of her plan. "That's easy," she said, opening the east gate for the second time that evening and leading him inside. "You're going to be blindfolded," she said, pulling him to a stop and quickly whipping the intricately folded cravat from around his neck.

          "I beg your pardon," he retorted dryly, catching her wrists as she moved to tie the silk over his eyes.

          Sarah snorted. "What did you expect, imp? Were you going to stand there all night with your hand over your eyes? Don't be absurd."

          His lip curled over his ruined teeth as he sneered at her, an inch away from being the snarling, snapping beast the realm feared. "You're trying my patience, dearie."

          Sarah smiled sweetly, a perfect imitation of the one her friend used on the king when he was being particularly difficult. "And here I thought you didn't have any at all. Now turn around and let me cover your eyes. Belle will be out in moments to join us."

          At her assurance that Belle was on her way, the sorcerer's stomach plummeted somewhere around the region of his knees, his nerves returning in full force. His little dearie would be seeing him for the first time and he was suddenly terrified. What if she were repulsed by his beastly exterior? What if she ran screaming in fear? What if she ripped the blindfold off and effectively broke their deal by letting his eyes rest upon her? What if …. He couldn't do it!

          "Don't you even _think_ about magicking yourself out of this garden, Rumpelstiltskin!" Sarah hissed in warning as she finished tying the cravat over his eyes. "You're practically quaking in fear."

          "Pfft," he managed around the lump in his throat, not wanting to admit his cowardice to the little magpie.

          She marched around him and waved her hand before his eyes. When he didn't respond, she stuck her tongue out at him in childlike devilment. Satisfied he couldn't see her, she poked him in the ribs with a sharp fingernail. "You listen to me, imp. If you hurt  _my_ Belle … because know this, she was mine first … I will hunt you down. There will be no corner of the realm you will be able to escape my wrath. And I promise you when I do, there won't be enough body parts left to identify you."

          "Sarah!"

          "Damn and blast," Sarah cursed under her breath as she turned, the sound of Belle's soft voice carrying to her on the breeze from across the hedge. She didn't give him time to protest, sputter or even curse her as she fled the secluded corner of the garden and let her rapid steps carry her to Belle's side.

          And just as swiftly, he was left alone with his doubts and fears and the death threat of one very audacious lady in waiting. Did she not know he could end her with a flick of his wrist, a snap of his fingers? He wouldn't, of course. That would likely irk his Belle. The  _what ifs_ started up the moment he felt Sarah's presence desert him, and it didn't help that the demon who inhabited his soul was laughing hysterically and calling him ten kinds of fool.

          And for the first time in over a century, he agreed with it. "I  _was_  a fool for coming here," he murmured, his high-pitched voice barely a whisper on the wind.

          "Were you?"

          He stiffened as Belle's soft voice crashed over him like an ocean wave at high tide in the midst of a violent storm. She was here. She'd come to him, looked upon his beastly visage and she wasn't screaming or running away in terror. He felt her step closer, could sense her mere inches away and his hands itched to reach out for her, clasp her to him and bury his face in the soft curls he'd become obsessed with just from gazing upon her portrait. His voice was a raspy croak when he spoke, so filled with emotion he felt he would burst from the sheer joy of being in her presence. "Belle ... _my_ Belle …"

          "Rumpel …" came her whispered reply as she reached for his outstretched hand and twined her fingers tightly with his, afraid if she let go, he would disappear, and it would all have been another dream. "You really came."

          The breath caught in his chest as her delicate hand cupped his cheek and his lips turned into her touch, pressing into her warm palm for a tentative kiss. "I couldn't deny you any longer, dear heart."

          Her heart soared at the endearment which fell from his lips, and she sighed in pleasure. She dropped her hand from his, her fingertips ghosting over the silk tied about his eyes. "Are your eyes closed behind this?" she asked.

          "Yes. There's no point in keeping them open when I cannot see, now is there?" he teased.

          She felt him tense as her hands reached behind his head and began to loosen the knot Sarah had tied. "Keep them closed, darling."

          "Belle, what are you doing? You can't," he choked out, fear twisting in his gut.

          She chuckled, low and deep in her throat, the warmest sound he believed he'd ever heard in his long existence. It reminded him of a blazing fire on a frigid night and he yearned to draw her against his chest and kiss her until she was breathless and wanting. He was so lost in the fantasy he almost missed her softly uttered words. "Just keep them closed. I want to see you, Rumpel.

          Belle simply stared as the cloth fell away from his eyes, now able to see him clearly. Tears stung her eyes as she drank in every one of his angular features, the shape of his closed eyes, his slightly crooked hawk-like nose and his wonderfully formed mouth which was now twisted in something akin to a grimace.

          Rumpelstiltskin waited with bated breath as he listened for her to say something … _anything_. The suspense was killing him. And then all his fears crumbled to ash as her fingertips brushed the hair away from his eyes and she whispered reverently, "You're beautiful, my Rumpel. And mine."

          He allowed her a brief moment to return the blindfold to his eyes and then she was in his arms, clinging tightly to him in the shared joy of finally being with one another. He was surrounded by her … her sweet floral fragrance intoxicating him more than the headiest wine as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder. He could almost detect a faint trace of magic about her mixed in with her sweet scent, but he brushed his concern away, believing it to be from the spell used on her friend. His arms coiled about her waist and crushed her to him, molding her body to his as he continued to breathe her in. He could be content to hold her like that for the remainder of his days … he needed nothing more than the sweet girl in his arms, whispering her joy.

          "I love you, Rumpelstiltskin," she breathed against his ear as she stroked her fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. Her lips pressed a soft kiss to his neck, just below his ear and she felt a shiver ripple through him. "I've loved you for so long now, but I didn't want to tell you in a letter. I felt you deserved to hear me say it for the first time."

          "Oh, Belle … I —" His voice trailed away as his ears picked up the sound of an amused giggle and he froze. "Someone's coming."

          Belle pulled the hood of her cloak over her head … thankfully, she'd taken it from Sarah before her friend had taken her place at the ball … and took his hand, dragging him down the path to a secluded area of the garden where the shadows were long and deep. There they could have all the privacy they desired with no chance of discovery. She led him over to a stone bench and urged him to sit, settling down next to him and nestling against his side.

          "You were saying?" she whispered with a soft giggle as she rested her head against his shoulder as his arms wound around her again.

          He laughed, a warm genuine laugh of the spinner he'd been long ago, the imp mysteriously absent in the presence of his girl. He bit back the moan of pleasure which rose in his throat as her hands rose to cup his face and draw him forward. The first touch of her lips as they brushed ever so softly against his own could only be described as pure bliss. His nerve endings tingled and surged, and he felt more alive than he'd felt in a century … or two. The Dark One growled in the back of his mind and he wanted to laugh at the demon's glowering displeasure. He was so unworthy of the treasure in his arms, clinging to him as though she cherished him to the very depths of her soul, and he thanked every god he'd ever heard of -and some he hadn't - for the enchantress who had led him to her.

          "I love you, my Belle," he whispered against her lips, barely able to utter the words he never thought he'd say to another living soul. "So much I am consumed with it, with you."

          She hummed her pleasure, her joy at his words, and her lips parted in awe. He took advantage and drew her bottom lip between his own, fighting down the raging emotion coursing through him. He didn't want to take the chance of frightening her away, yet at the same instance he felt as though he'd never be able to let her go. Oh, how he wished he could see her, the love he knew she shared lighting her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, her lips swollen from his kisses. Then again, he would certainly lose the tenuous hold he had on his desire to whisk her back to the Dark Castle and marry her immediately. He was certain they could find a willing parson somewhere along the way.

          Belle whimpered in protest as he gave her one last sipping kiss and drew away to press his brow to hers. "What's the matter?" she asked, worried. "Did I do it wrong?"

          He chuckled and hugged her close, delighted by her response to him. "Of course, not, dearest. I just do not want to overwhelm you with my beastly attentions."

          Belle snorted and tugged on the ends of his hair, earning a low rumble of pleasure from deep within his chest. " _My_ beast … _my_ love."

          "You don't know how long I've yearned to be with you like this."

          "Probably as long as I have," she assured him, sighing happily as she tucked her head beneath his chin and relaxed into his embrace. "Rumpel, I truly despise this contract you have with my father." She felt him stiffen and she rushed to explain. "I don't want to marry you because a contract tells me I must. I want to marry you because I love you … because I can't bear the thought of living apart from you."

          He was thankful, for the first time since this evening had begun, that he was blindfolded, and she couldn't see the tears he felt wetting his eyes. Even though Winter had foreseen the depth of this girl's love for him, he'd never allowed himself to fully believe it. "You have no idea how happy you've made me … to hear you say you love me, that you  _want_  to be with me of your own free will. But, dearest … if I break the contract, your father will never allow us to be together. I won't lose you after I've waited so long for you … I can't."

          She emitted a small squeak as he hugged her just a bit too tightly, but she refused to ask him to release her. "We can't go on as we have been these past six months, Rumpel. I can't stand it. As much as I cherish your letters, they are a poor substitute for being held in your arms, hearing your voice,  _seeing_  your smile with my own eyes. I  _need_  to be with you."

          "Your honesty astounds me, my dear," he said, his voice muffled against her hair. "But then, so does your naiveté. Do you really think now that I've had you in my arms, I would so easily let you go? Monster, remember?"

          She poked him playfully in the ribs. "You're not a monster, darling. A beast, perhaps, but never a monster."

          "Regardless," he said, his lips curling into a smile. "Now that I have you, I find myself craving your company even more than before. Shall we continue with these clandestine meetings … say at least once a week?"

          A diabolical smirk turned up one corner of her mouth and her eyes narrowed. He could practically see the gears in her brilliant mind turning as she plotted and schemed. The sight of it made the Dark One sit up and take notice. "No. There will be nothing clandestine about it. If you won't carry me off to the nearest cleric and bind me to you immediately, then I demand a proper courtship."

          "Belle," he sighed wearily. "Your father will never allow it."

          "No, papa said he wouldn't relent and remove the clause stating you couldn't see me. He never said anything about allowing me to see you … as if the dear man could stop me," she murmured, her mind whirling with plans to continue spending time with her husband to be. "You will come here once a week if your schedule permits. We've already proven the blindfold is effective in helping you to abide by that infernal contract."

          "This will cause conflict between you and your father. Are you prepared for that? You still have a year left with him, sweetheart. Do you want to spend that time with bad feelings between the two of you?"

          "Rumpel, I've tried to make him understand just because I'm marrying you doesn't mean he has to be cut permanently from my life. It's him who refuses to see reason," she huffed indignantly and then paused, suddenly unsure of herself. "Um … you are going to allow me to visit, are you not?"

          He scowled against her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. "I wish only for your happiness. If visiting your father will make you happy, I suppose I will allow it."

          "How magnanimous of you, darling," she muttered dryly. "Now back to this courtship thing … I want to see you as much as your schedule will permit. I want flowers and chocolates and," she giggled, "promises you don't intend to keep."

          His fingers drifted over her ribs, finding a particularly ticklish spot. "You do, do you?" he snarled playfully.

          "Yes. Now stop that before we draw attention to ourselves," she warned, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat.

          He forced down the surge of desire which flooded his body at the warmth of her lips against his skin and tilted her chin up to his, his breath fanning her face. "Perhaps we should discuss a compromise," he suggested. He shuddered at the thought of a formal courtship. He'd have to keep a respectable distance and contend with the various chaperones, not to mention the constant guards and the king himself. He wouldn't be allowed a moment like this again if the king had his way about it.

          "What do you have in mind, love?"

          "I will … ah … come to visit you in secret three times a month and once in the presence of your father to prove my good intentions."

          She sighed as his thumb brushed lightly over her lower lip. "I think I would like that very much." Belle tugged on the curling ends of his hair and brought his lips to her, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. "Do we have a deal, my Rumpel?"

          His chuckle came out in a huff of air against her rosebud mouth. "I believe that's my line, dearest."

          She delved both hands into his hair and pulled, reveling in the low rumble deep in his chest as his mouth claimed hers in a sweet, loving kiss. She didn't need him to say anything, his kiss said it all. The deal was struck.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Sorry for the delay. I wanted to go over this chapter one more time. The age thing may be a bit touchy for some of you, what with Belle having just marked her 17th birthday. However, in my defense, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin are not living in the new millennia. According to nairaland dot com …
> 
> In the Medieval Times, with parental permission it was legal for boys to marry at 14 and girls at 12. A betrothal often took place when the prospective bride and groom were as young as 7 years old and in the case of higher nobility many were betrothed as babies. But a marriage was only legal once the marriage had been consummated. 
> 
> Therefore, I don’t believe this should be an issue. At some point, the contract will be broken, and they won’t be waiting around for her next birthday to marry. If this squicks you out, I completely understand if you do not wish to continue reading. Thank you all SO much for your support and love for this story so far. You don’t know what it means to me.


	11. Chapter 11

 

          Sarah gnashed her teeth together and pasted a coquettish smile on her face, beaming falsely at Lord Byron as he attempted to flirt with whom he thought was the princess. The man was a middle-aged womanizer who chased more skirt than a dog his tail. He had a truly repugnant wife who acted more as the queen she wanted to be than a mere baroness, and five children who needed discipline more than the trinkets and privileges heaped upon them. And if Sarah wasn't pretending to be her dearest friend, she'd have given him a taste of her sharp tongue and her equally sharp-toed shoe. Instead, she gulped down the remainder of the champagne in her glass and glanced over her shoulder at her husband.

          It was well after midnight, and she needed to beat a hasty retreat to the garden to find Belle. She didn't even want to contemplate the disaster she would bring down upon their heads if she were to regain her natural appearance in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Thank the gods they didn't burn witches in Avonlea! Belle was so going to owe her for this debacle. She arched a brow at the Baron, her smile slipping into a tolerant smirk at best.

          "Yes, milord, I'm sure Willa is well adept at …"

          He cut her off, continuing to expound on his youngest daughter’s achievements. "She'll be coming out this fall … so proud … beautiful girl …"

          "Too bad no one can stand more than five minutes in her presence because of her acerbic tongue," Sarah said, the champagne having gone straight to her head.

          Lord Byron blinked owlishly at her. "I beg your pardon?"

          Marcus stepped forward and offered his arm, coming to her rescue. "Highness, might I suggest a bit of air on the terrace?" he asked, his tone and the desperate look in his dark eyes conveying what his words could not.

          Lord Byron was still sputtering in surprise as Marcus led her out the French doors and onto the terrace. Sarah hiccupped and giggled. "Lummox! It's going to take more than a huge dowry and his connections to marry off those horse-faced simpering twits."

          "Highness, are you alright? You're not acting like yourself this evening," he commented, glad she was holding onto his arm as she swayed unsteadily.

          "M' fine! Just need some air, darling," she said, taking a deep cleansing breath. She was practically pulling him in the direction she needed to rendezvous with Belle and there was no time to delay. When she reached the hedge, which separated them from the private corner of the garden the princess had long ago claimed as her own, she turned abruptly to her husband and grinned. "Be right back."

          "But, highness —"

          "Shh. You don't need to watch me every second!" she hissed, taking up Belle's age-old argument with those charged to watch her every move. She left him standing there and stumbled her way along the path, the shadows deep and long and making it hard for her - in her inebriated condition - to find her way. A deep sigh of whispered delight which sounded much like 'Oh, Rumpel" met her ears and she groaned.  _Blech!_

          "Belle," she hissed. "Psst! Belle!"

          "No, don't go," came a muffled request from Rumpelstiltskin as Belle hastily tried to remove herself from his lap.

          A giggle from Belle. "I have to, darling. I'll be right back." There was rustling along the hedge and then finally her friend was standing before her. "Sarah! Are you alright? You look awful."

          "M' fine! Don't know why everyone keeps asking me that," Sarah grumbled as Belle wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and led her over to the bench where she'd left the arms of her beloved just moments ago. "It's after midnight, Belle. You've got to get in there now before this spell wears off and exposes us all."

          Rumpelstiltskin rose from his seat and reached for Belle, pulling her into his arms, not caring they had an audience. "It is getting late, dearest. I'm sorry I kept you away from your ball," he remarked dryly, not sorry in the least as he held her against his chest and nuzzled her ear.

          "This was the best birthday I have  _ever_  had. There's no need to apologize for giving me such a gift as being able to spend the evening with you … at last."

          Sarah cracked on eye open and glanced up from her perch on the bench, suddenly wishing she hadn't. "Yes, yes, yes, do get on with it please!"

          Belle's laughter was muffled against Rumpelstiltskin's silk-clad chest. "Oh, alright. Rumpel, will you be able to magic yourself home … blindfolded and all?"

          "Yes," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. He was loath to leave her now that he finally had her all to himself. His hand cupped her smooth cheek and he could feel wetness against his fingertips. His heart plummeted, wondering if he may have done something wrong with his clumsy attempts at affection. "Hey, what's this about, my Belle? Have I upset you in some way?"

          Belle pressed her face into the crook of his neck and sniffled. "I don't want you to leave me. It seems as though you just got here and now I have to let you go."

          His hand slipped around to the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing the line of her jaw as he tilted her face up to meet his. His lips found hers in a gentle kiss, afraid to kiss her too deeply. He wanted her so badly and he knew it would be all the more difficult to leave her if he gave his passion free rein. Already he was at the point where he was ready to set fire to the contract and whisk her back to the Dark Castle and straight to his bed. He wanted her with him always and the thought of the days to come were more painful than he wished to contemplate. He felt as though he were surrounded by light and he didn't want to return to the darkness.

          "I love you," he breathed against her lips. "If you believe nothing else for the rest of your life, let there be no doubt of the depths of my devotion for you.  I  _will_  return, my darling. And we have our letters in the meantime."

          "And when will I see you again?" she asked, her brow knit in concern as he drew away from her with a shuddering breath. "Are you going to have to go back to Sarah's house, so she can bring you here or will you …"

          "I will come here, to the east gate where she brought me this evening. Will you meet me there on Saturday at noon? We might as well get the formal part of the courtship over with and see how your father reacts, don't you think?" he asked.

          Sarah groaned and curled up on the bench, pressing her over-heated face against the cool stone. "I don't feel so well," she mumbled, closing her eyes. She could feel the magic fading from her body and she wondered briefly if she were having an adverse reaction. Then again, it could be the thought of Maurice and the royal hissy fit he was going to throw when he found out Belle had discovered a way around his little edict in the contract. Heads were going to roll!

          With a sigh and one last kiss to her parted lips, he released Belle and stepped back, smoothing his hand over the front of his dragon hide coat. "Go, sweetheart, see to your friend and get some rest. I expect a letter tomorrow."

          Belle sighed softly and watched the violet smoke envelop him, carrying him back to the Dark Castle.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle smiled sympathetically and placed a cool cloth to Sarah's heated brow. The girl was lying in Belle's bed, lamenting she was dying and vowing she would never drink champagne again. Belle had convinced Marcus to carry Sarah up to her room and let her sleep off the effects of the champagne. He would be on duty until dawn and couldn't very well see to his wife's needs. It would just be better for her to stay with Belle in the castle.

          "I can't believe you take my place for one evening and get completely sloshed!" Belle said, biting down on her tongue to stop the giggles threatening to bubble forth from her throat.

          Sarah groaned. "Belle, it was awful! I don't know how you do it. I had to dance with Gaston and he stepped all over my feet, the big lummox. And Lord Byron kept trying to grab my ass. He needs to be banned from such functions if he can't act with a modicum of decorum. Stop laughing, Belle, it's not funny!" she exclaimed and then groaned again at the pressure throbbing behind her eyes.

          "Yes, it is," Belle said, settling against the pillows beside her friend and toying with the ribbon at the neckline of her nightgown. "Now you see what I must contend with."

          "No woman should be forced to put up with such hardship. And my corset was digging into my ribs and I could hardly breathe," she complained.

          "At least it took your mind off of how much your shoes were pinching your feet."

          "Gah! What a nightmare." She rolled over onto her side and took in the dreamy smile curving the princess' lips. "So, did you enjoy your time with the imp?" she asked, pleased to see Belle so happy.

          Belle sighed and brushed her fingertips to her lips which still tingled from Rumpelstiltskin's kisses. "It was wonderful, Sarah. More than I'd ever imagined it would be."

          "And did he prostrate himself at your feet and declare his undying devotion to you?" Sarah asked with a teasing smirk. She pressed a hand over her heart and batted her lashes at Belle, her lips curving into a simpering damsel-in-distress smile.

          "Sarah! Don't be absurd," Belle scolded, the effect ruined as she burst into giggles. When their laughter subsided, her eyes were sparkling with tears of mirth. "I love him … so much, Sarah. I had no idea I could find such happiness with him when I first learned of the contract. I felt bought and sold, used by two men who had not a care that I was a human being and not a piece of livestock. And now I can't imagine loving anyone else. I can't wait to be his wife and the coming year is going to be unbearable."

          "No, what's going to be unbearable is when your father finds out the imp is coming for tea," Sarah retorted, a shudder wracking her petite frame at the very thought.

          Belle lowered her eyes, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. "Yes, Papa will surely be difficult, but I can handle him."

          Sarah sighed, supposing if anyone could handle the king it would be Belle. "I know you let him kiss you. You didn't let him get all handsy though, did you?"

          Belle blushed prettily and peeked at her friend from beneath her long lashes, her cerulean eyes alight with mischief. "A girl never kisses and tells."

          "Rubbish! You made me tell you everything when Marcus was courting me," Sarah scoffed.

          "Rumpel was a perfect gentleman," Belle replied evasively. Sarah didn't need to know she'd spent the majority of the evening sitting on her betrothed's lap, wrapped in his embrace. They'd had so much time to catch up on and they'd wasted not a moment basking in the love they felt for one another.

          "And you don't find his appearance a bit off-putting?"

          Belle sighed, remembering when she'd removed his blindfold and been able to see him clearly in the moonlight. "He's beautiful."

          Sarah rolled her eyes.

          "And unique and …"

          "Yes, in a strange monster sort of way," she quipped.

          "He's not a monster. I'm sure he must be quite intimidating with those he deals with, but to me … to me he's just a man. A very complex and brilliant man who has been hardened by the adversity of living too long. He hides behind the façade of the beast, but with me I think he finds he can be himself," she tried to explain to her friend what she saw buried deep within her beloved.

          Sarah yawned widely and closed her eyes, murmuring, "I'm glad he makes you happy, Belle."

          "He'll be back in a week to pay court to me," she gushed, a rush of excitement coursing through her.

          "His majesty will be so thrilled," Sarah deadpanned snarkily and drifted off to sleep. They could worry about the king and the surprise to come over breakfast.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle dotted the 'i' and crossed the 't's in his name as she wrote it on the front of her letter, smiling as it poofed out of sight. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips in anticipation as she thought of his reply. Last night was still replaying itself over and over again in her mind and she was unable to keep a dreamy smile from curving her mouth. Sarah had chased everyone from the salon that morning after breakfast, giving Belle the privacy she needed to write to her betrothed, glad to drive the court ladies into another part of the castle. Sarah was suffering the effects of over imbibing this morning and the peace and quiet was a soothing balm to her pounding head.

          She moved to stand at the open French doors, enjoying the warm breeze as it filtered into the room and ruffled the loose tendrils curling at her nape and around her ears. She fingered the aquamarine and diamond pendant which hung from the delicate golden chain about her neck, a birthday gift from her betrothed. He'd said it reminded him of her eyes. It was a simple piece - her jewelry box was filled with more elaborate and expensive pieces - but this one was more valuable than any she owned because Rumpelstiltskin had given it to her. The chain had been crafted from gold he had spun, making it much more personal because he'd said he'd been thinking of her as he'd worked to fashion it for her.

          "There you are," her father's voice boomed throughout the small room, drawing her from her reverie of her fiancé's gentle kisses and soft whispered endearments of the night before. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to this morning."

          Belle returned his hug and smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry I missed breakfast this morning with you, Papa. Did you have a pleasant repast?" She cleared her throat and sent a pointed look at Sarah. "Could you perhaps fetch a servant to bring us tea please?"

          Sarah left to do as the princess bid and Maurice moved out onto the terrace, encouraging his daughter to join him. She took a seat on one of the padded benches next to a marble table and tilted her face up, enjoying the way the sun caressed her skin. "Did you enjoy your evening?"

          A secret smile played at her lips. "Oh, yes, Papa, I have to say it was the most wonderful birthday I've ever had."

          Maurice patted her hand where it rested atop the table, beaming proudly. "I am pleased to hear that, my girl. I was a bit concerned. You were acting so oddly, I couldn't be certain if you were enjoying yourself."

          "I was? How so?" she asked, nibbling thoughtfully at her lower lip. What had Sarah gotten into while Belle had been with Rumpelstiltskin in the garden?

          Maurice studied her curiously, looking for any signs of discomfort in his daughter which might make him think she were ill. "You were rather rude to Lord Byron, and you called Sir Gaston a lumbering ox and left him in the middle of the dance floor. You accidentally dumped an entire glass of punch on Lady Bertrand and you told Lady Fairfax if she didn't do something about her daughter's incessant giggling the poor girl would never find a husband."

          Belle bit down on the inside of her cheek, pursing her lips and trying hard not to laugh. "It's true, Papa. I can hardly stand more than five minutes in Miriam's presence before I'm ready to commit violence … and I'm  _not_  a violent person. Lady Bertrand is a notorious gossip and I didn't think she needed to tell everyone there about … well, nevermind. Lord Byron is a lech and Gaston  _is_  a lumbering ox who thinks he must regale me with his prowess with a bow while dancing all over my aching feet. I'm sorry if I was a bit tense and allowed it to show." She arched a brow and smirked at him when he simply shook his head in exasperation.

          Sarah set the tea tray in the center of the table and set about preparing a cup for Belle and the king. Finally, she fixed her own and moved a discreet distance away to give Belle and the monarch some privacy for their chat. Belle smiled at her father over the rim of her cup. "The only thing which could have made the evening better was if you would have allowed me to invite Rumpel to be there with me."

          The grip Maurice exerted on the handle of the fine china cup was so tight, Belle wondered how it didn't turn to dust between his fingers. "Yes, I'm sure," he said through clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking viciously. "Are you still writing to him?" he asked, noticing the ink smudges on the fingers of her right hand.

          "I am. I enjoy corresponding with him. I've learned a great deal about my future husband," she replied, reaching for one of the scones resting on the tray and nibbling at it.

          "He's no doubt filled your head with tales of all the other children he's stolen away from their parents," he grumbled. "But I didn't come out here to argue with you about your unwanted fiancé."

          "Only unwanted by you, Papa."

          He huffed an exasperated sigh and ran his hand through his hair, the vein now protruding in his forehead. "I wanted to inform you that King George and his son will be visiting with us this weekend as they pass through our land on their journey to Trottenham. I will need you to plan some entertainments to keep our guests happy, especially the prince."

          Belle groaned, dropping her hands into her lap and wringing them nervously. "I'm sorry, Papa, but I won't be able to play hostess this weekend."

          Maurice frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion. "And why not?"

          She took a deep breath and forged ahead. "Because Rumpel is coming to pay court to me … as my betrothed should if it weren't for your stubbornness … and I will be too busy to bother with the king and his son."

          "I beg your pardon," he said after a moment of stunned silence.

          She sipped her tea. "You heard me."

          Maurice sat back in his seat and smiled broadly. "This is wonderful news."

          "W-What?" Belle asked incredulously. This was not the reaction she'd been expecting from her father.

          "This is wonderful. He will come to Avonlea, set eyes on you, the contract will be broken, and you won't have to marry him," he stated simply, a smug smile on his face.

          Belle's lips twitched traitorously before she was able to school her features into a bland mask. She felt like kicking him beneath the table. "Rumpel won't be able to see me."

          "I don't see as how he could avoid it, my girl."

          "Blindfold."

          "Excuse me?" he asked, gaping at her.

          "The contract will remain intact so long as he doesn't  _see_  me, Papa. There is nothing within it which states he cannot talk to me, visit me, court me, and so on. Did you really think I would chance losing him to a technicality?"

          Maurice's face reddened to the likeness of a ripe tomato as he bounded to his feet. His hand slammed down onto the table, causing Belle to wince but she met his outraged stare with a calm one of her own, used to his blustering. "I won't have that beast in my home fawning all over my daughter. I won't stand for it, Belle!"

          "Papa, calm down, please. You're going to make yourself ill," she scolded gently, just as he'd done to her when she had been a child and didn't get her way.

          "How could you do this to me?! You know how diligently I've worked over the past seventeen years to free you from this contract. How could you deliberately go behind my back and be willfully accepting of this deal? You act as though you  _want_  to marry that monster!"

          Belle rose to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, her own ire rising. "I  _do_  want to marry him. If you would listen to me when I speak instead of patronizing me and thinking nothing I have to say matters, you would have realized that by now. I. Love. Him."

          He drew back as if she'd struck him, the words hanging like a death knell between them. "You don't mean that."

          "Of course, I do. He makes me happy, Papa. I see him for who he truly is and he's  _not_  a monster. He is a man … one who is misunderstood, apparently by everyone but me … and I want you to stop trying to sabotage the contract. I want to marry him because I love him, not because I feel obligated to fulfill the deal you made. Don't you want me to be happy?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

          His hands curled into fists at his sides and for the first time in her life, Belle found herself afraid of him. "Your happiness is what I am trying to insure," he vowed in a feral whisper. "I made a promise to your mother on her death bed I would protect you and by the gods I  _will_  fulfill that promise." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked through the salon to disappear through the door at the far end of the room, the barrier slamming in its finality.

          Sarah moved to stand next to her friend, wrapping a comforting arm about Belle's waist. "Well, that went well," she remarked dryly.

          "How in the name of Freya can you say that went well?"

          "Well," she shrugged. "He didn't collapse at your feet, dead from the shock of your news and he didn't break anything. So, yes, it went very well."

          Belle emitted a reluctant laugh, thankful her friend could make her smile even when she could feel her world shattering apart. "Oh, Sarah."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you all for reading. I look so forward to hearing what you think! You guys are just amazing, and I appreciate your support. Stay tuned, dearies! More to come soon.


	12. Chapter 12

 

          Regina cast her glare upon the Dark One as her ruby lips curled up into a sneer. "What could be more important to you than the deal we are discussing?" she asked in irritation, completely vexed he was taking the time to tend to his correspondence.

          "I'll be just a moment, dearie. Don't get your corset strings in a knot," he said with a giggle as he sent the letter off in puff of smoke. "Now … you were saying?" He sat back against the ornate chair at her dining table and sipped his tea. His former apprentice had called on him to make a deal for an antique comb … a cursed comb which resided in his vault to keep it out of the hands of one such as Regina. It was entirely too dangerous, but it was always fun to toy with her.

          Unfortunately, her focus had shifted. She eyed him speculatively over the rim of her cup and smiled. "You've never had your mail follow you about before. You must be working an extremely important deal. Anything I might help you with?" she asked, her tone sweet as honey.

          He raised a dubious brow in her direction.  _Indeed not!_  Before he could answer, Belle's reply poofed onto the table near his elbow.

 

 

_My darling Rumpel,_

 

_What do you mean the tone of my letter seems 'off'? How can you tell my tone from a letter?!_

_Love,_

_Belle_

 

 

          Regina tapped her ruby lacquered nails against the polished table, her lips pressing into a thin line. He ignored her as he pulled a self-inking quill from the pocket of his dragon hide coat and penned his reply.

 

 

_Sweetheart,_

 

_I think I can tell by now when you don't sound like yourself. Now tell me immediately what is troubling you._

 

_Love,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          "Apologies, your majesty," he said, smirking with satisfaction at the tightness about her eyes. She was seconds away from losing her temper.

          "I have finally found that abominable girl, and I wish to give her the comb as a gift. I can have my revenge at last and be done with her. Now are you going to give it to me or not? I've already told you I would give you whatever you desire in return," she said petulantly.

          "No."

          "What do mean ‘no’? You've got it stashed away in that moldy old castle of yours collecting dust. Why won't you let me have it?"

          He ignored her once again as another letter poofed into existence and he began to read.

 

 

_Rumpel,_

 

_It's nothing to concern yourself over. Papa is just being a beast. He's locked himself in his study … pouting because he knows I've outwitted him and he's not at all happy about it._

 

_Love,_

_Belle_

 

 

_Sweetheart,_

 

_Would you have me talk to him? I don't like that he's causing you undue grief._

 

_Love,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          Regina watched him write, her irritation bordering on rage. She slammed her palm down on the table to which he didn't even flinch. "Rumpelstiltskin, if you have more important things to do … your correspondence, for instance … why are you even here?"

          The sorcerer sent the letter off with a flick of his wrist and sighed wearily, the queen and her worries becoming tiresome. "Perhaps I was just in the mood for a cup of tea," he said, his nose wrinkling as his giggle trilled through the cavernous dining hall. "You didn't really think I would give you the comb, did you? What if it fell into the wrong hands after you'd done away with the girl?"

          "Since when do you care about harming anyone aside from the intended victim? What should it matter?" she asked, incredulous to hear such nonsense from the Dark One.

          Rumpelstiltskin frowned, her words hitting home. What  _did_  he care if anyone else was hurt? Besides the fact that it was wrong?  _Oh, gods! My girl is making me soft! If this gets out, my reputation will be shot all to hell and no one will want to deal with me. They'll be thinking they can have the deal actually benefit them instead of me. Shit! This won't do at all._

          He scowled at her. A compromise would have to suffice. "Very well, dearie. I'll give you the comb."

          Regina flashed him a blinding smile, all feral teeth and gums. "Excellent. And your price?"

          She nearly growled as another letter landed on the table.

 

 

_Darling,_

 

_No, I fear it would only make things worse. It will all work out in the end, Rumpel. I just hate that things are so strained between me and papa. He just refuses to listen to reason. I just … nevermind. I will see you on Saturday. I just need you, Rum._

 

_Love,_

_Belle_

 

 

          "Rumpelstiltskin!" Regina hissed impatiently.

          "Your mother's ruby pendant," he replied as if he hadn't just rudely ignored her for the umpteenth time since he'd arrived to answer a letter.

          Regina paled. "And how am I supposed to get her pendant? She never takes it off and … she's in Wonderland!"

          "If you want the comb, your majesty, you will find a way. Now I must be off." He paused, straightening his coat and offering her another giggle at her outrage.

          Her tea cup shattered against the door he disappeared through, but he had better things to do than worry over the queen's displeasure. But the imp in him couldn't resist poking his head back through the door to taunt her one last time before he left. "Temper, temper, dearie. It's bad for the digestion." He strode from the castle, each step taking him closer to what he truly wanted. His Belle was unhappy and that just wouldn't do. With a thought, he was swept through the ether, her essence pulling him to her side.

          A shriek and a giggle met his ears when he arrived, his eyes shut tightly and his hand covering them as well just for good measure. The shriek came from Sarah, the giggle from Belle. Recovering from her shock, Sarah rushed forward with a swath of silk and pulled his hand away to cover his eyes with the blindfold.

          "Sneaky imp!" she scolded. "What are you even doing here?"

          "Lovely to see you, too, dearie," he said, smirking as she pulled the cloth tightly about his eyes.

          "Sarah," Belle scolded gently with a patient smile for her friend. "It doesn't matter why he's here." She stepped into his outstretched arms, wrapping her own about his waist.

          "Belle …" he murmured against the soft curls at her crown as he embraced her tightly, reveling in the pleasure of having her in his arms once more, her soft curves molding to his lean lines. Four days away from her had seemed like a lifetime. "There were tears on your last letter. And don't you dare brush it off as though it were nothing. I will not have you miserable, dearest."

          "Are you hungry? I could have Sarah ring for a light repast and perhaps some tea," Belle said, nuzzling her nose against the side of his neck.

          He shivered, but refused to let her dodge the question. "Belle, stop trying to distract me. Tell me why you're so upset. I've killed men for less."  _Damn! Maybe I shouldn't have said that._

          "I've no doubt, darling, but I know you wouldn't harm my papa."

          "So certain of that, are you?" he quipped, his brow raising behind the blindfold.

          Belle took his arm and led him outside onto the terrace urging him to sit on the cushioned chaise. "You've sworn never to hurt me, Rumpel and killing my papa would definitely hurt me …"

          "More's the pity," he mumbled under his breath.

          "… so yes, I'm certain," she said airily, ignoring his snide remark and settling onto the chaise to curl up at his side, pulling his arm about her waist and laying her head against his shoulder.

          Sarah came outside and brought her embroidery with her, choosing to sit on a comfortable bench in the shade a discreet distance away to chaperone them. She'd made certain to lock the door to Belle's private chambers to keep any of the servants from happening upon them.

          "I was worried," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as he relaxed back against the chaise. He would have been content to spend every moment until their wedding sitting there with her nestled so perfectly against his side, her hand resting on his chest over his heart.

          Belle lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, encouraged when he leaned into her touch. "I didn't mean to worry you, love, but if it brought you to my side, I can't say I'm sorry." She brushed her lips to the corner of his jaw and smiled. "I've missed you."

          He tucked her head beneath his chin and sighed. "I really shouldn't have come as it's not one of our designated meeting days, but the thought of you so distressed … what are you doing to me, Belle?"

          "Rumpel, don't you know I couldn't care less if it was one of those days? I  _want_ to spend more time with you and will always welcome you  _whenever_  you decide to come here." Her fingers toyed with the laces on his silk poet shirt distractedly as she whispered, "And I could ask the same question of you. I've always felt as though a part of me was missing, that I needed something in my life and feared I'd never find. That feeling left me anxious and apprehensive but … oh, I don't know how to explain it."

          His voice was tinged with awe as he murmured against her hair, "And now you feel whole?"

          "Yes. When I'm with you I feel that way, but when you leave again…"

          "…You feel empty."

          "Exactly." She sighed, breathless, boneless as he tipped her chin up and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She'd never before experienced anything like the coiled knot of pleasure which settled low in her belly when he touched her, and it left her wanting more. He'd been so careful in his affections for her so far, and she yearned for the day when he could give his passions free reign. She recognized her feelings for what they were, desire and love, and she wanted to explore more with him, but he pulled away as she pressed closer.

          "I feel the same, my darling Belle," he said softly, kissing the tip of her nose.

          Belle nibbled thoughtfully at her lower lip, so many questions longing to loose themselves from her tongue, questions which had been plaguing her for quite some time. "Rumpel, can I ask you something?"

          "You can ask me anything," he responded almost immediately. He would try to answer her questions to the best of his ability. He found he didn't want to be deceptive, as was his nature … not with her. With Belle he felt the desire to unburden his soul, to be honest and forthcoming as she had always been with him. He was tired of hiding, tired of the loneliness which enveloped every facet of his life and tired of being looked on with fear and disgust. He needed her love to free him.

          "What made you choose me?" she asked guardedly, needing to know his true motivations, yet afraid of the answer. "I know of your foresight … one of the few things I've been able to discover about you on my own. Did you see our future? Did you know then you would love me?"

          The fingers of his free hand, the one not currently wrapped possessively about his betrothed's waist, tapped idly against the arm of the chaise, not sure how to answer her. "No, sweetheart, I didn't see our future. For some reason, whenever I try to look beyond, I can't see us. It's as if something is blocking my sight I can't explain."

          She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, wishing she could look into his eyes. "Then how did you know?"

          "A year before you were born, Winter came to me and told me of a child. She said this child would bring light into my soul to chase away the darkness. She would help me find the humanity I had lost over the centuries and bring happiness and balance into my life. She would help me find my heart's desire … my son," he revealed, his voice just above a whisper so his words wouldn't carry over to Sarah. "Winter said you were special, that only you would be able to see into the heart of the Dark One, that only you would find the good in me and love me with your whole heart."

          "Winter, the enchantress?" she asked, feeling a slight shiver run through her. "My father went to her for help in breaking the contract you have with him and she turned him away. She told him to leave things as they are, that he wasn't to mess with fate."

          "I've no doubt she did, sweetheart. She believes we are meant for one another, and one cannot be happy without the other." His teeth gnashed together, and his lip curled back in a snarl at the thought of the king trying to take his Belle away from him, to free her from the fulfillment of the contract. His hand tightened involuntarily against her silk covered hip.

          "And she believes I can help you find Bae?" she asked. She remembered the letter containing the story of his son and how he had lost him. She'd insisted on the tale and then regretted not letting him tell her in person. By the tone of his letter, he'd suffered greatly as he'd shared the tale with her and she'd had no way to comfort him.

          "Yes. It was my true motivation for making the deal with your father." His arms tightened about her and he pressed his brow to hers, hoping desperately that she would understand. "I didn't know, Belle. I didn't know I would fall in love with you, that you would tear down every wall I'd ever constructed to keep myself from getting hurt again. And I never dreamed I'd have your love in return. Winter has been known to be wrong a time or two and I never dared hope …"

          Her lips silenced him as she drew his lower lip between her own, kissing him tenderly. "I  _do_  love you, my Rumpel. You're mine now and I'll not let anything come between us … especially not my father. You  _will_  be my husband and  _when_  we find Baelfire, we'll be a family."

          His heart warmed at her reassurances and made him believe it really could be as simple as she’d stated. She was his as he was hers. He'd never thought to allow himself to belong to another woman after his disastrous first marriage, but he found it was easier to give himself to this little princess than he'd ever thought possible.

          "Now, would you like to tell me what had you so distressed this morning?" he asked, trying to avoid the distraction of her questing lips.

          Belle sighed wearily and shook her head. "Papa is taking every opportunity to tell me of all your nefarious deeds. He thinks by telling me of all your deals and vile acts you've committed in the past, it will somehow change what I feel in my heart. I can't say I approve of most of the things you've done in your past, Rumpel, but I understand you were only trying to find a way to Bae. Papa doesn't have the luxury of that knowledge."

          His fingers toyed nervously with the end of her braid. "I'm trying to do better, dear one, for you, to be worthy of your love."

          "You  _are_  worthy of me, Rumpel. You're only human, capable of human mistakes. The fact you're willing to change is admirable, but I do not ask it of you. I fell in love with you as you are, even the darkest parts of you and I am proud to call you mine," she whispered reverently, hoping to make him see how much she loved him.

          And how could he not kiss her after such a bold statement, his lips claiming hers. There was nothing chaste and innocent about this kiss, his tongue sweeping over her bottom lip and along the seam, begging for entry into the honeyed recesses of her mouth as his arms crushed her to him. Belle gasped in surprise as his tongue touched hers for the first time, her shock quickly dissipating as fire flooded her veins, making her boneless and weak with desire for him. She melted into him, her hands delving into the hair at his nape and tugging gently. He whimpered softly as her nails scraped along his scalp, pulling him closer … as if that were even possible … and she swallowed it down with no small amount of pride that she'd caused him to make that sound.

          "AHEM!" Sarah loudly cleared her throat. "That will be quite enough of that, Imp," she scolded.

          Rumpelstiltskin broke the kiss and was surprised to find himself with heated cheeks. He turned his head in the direction of Sarah's voice, a smirk curving up the left side of his mouth. "Apologies, dearie," he said, giggling at the discomfort which must surely be coloring her own cheeks.

          Belle laughed softly, hiding her blush against the side of his neck. "Leave it go, Sarah. When he comes courting Saturday, I'll be lucky if he's allowed within two feet of me. There will be no stolen kisses and sweet words," she grumbled sadly. She ran her fingertip along his smooth jaw. "He will have to be a perfect gentleman instead of my sweet imp," she purred.

          Rumpelstiltskin groaned.

 

*.*.*

 

Three days later…

 

          At precisely noon, Rumpelstiltskin appeared at the east gate before a waiting Sarah. She stood there with her hands on her rounded hips, tapping her foot impatiently against the cobblestones. Her face was flushed, and her full lips were drawn into a thin line. He took in her flashing hazel eyes and groaned inwardly. "You don't look happy, minx," he said, dryly stating the obvious.

          "You wouldn't be happy either, Imp, if you'd had to listen to Belle quarrel with her father for most of the morning. And King George and his pompous son visiting isn't helping matters in the least. But I suppose it was too much to hope old Georgie could distract the king for long," she said, moving forward to tie the blindfold over the sorcerer's eyes.

          He frowned, deep lines appearing in his brow. "What, may I ask is George doing here?"

          "Nothing of import, I assure you. They are just passing through on their way to King Midas' court. And I do not care for Prince James in the slightest. He might be lauded and celebrated as a great and noble knight, but in my opinion he's no more than a handsy, swaggering jackass," she seethed.

          He winced as she knotted the silk and simultaneously pulled his hair. Vicious little harpy! He didn't like the thought of his Belle being anywhere near the odious prince and he couldn't help feeling thankful he had Sarah to help watch over her when he couldn't be there for her. He resented the blindfold however. He wouldn't be able to read the emotions the royals so flagrantly displayed on their faces and it was going to be a deterrent to his dealings with them. He never should have allowed Belle to talk him into this.

          "Has James made any advances towards my girl?" he asked, wanting to kick himself for revealing the roiling emotions churning in his gut.  _Really, Rumpelstiltskin, of all the questions you could have asked the silly girl, this is what you choose?_  He pushed the Dark One to the far recesses of his mind and ignored the catty remark.

          Sarah huffed a short laugh, her tone gentling. "Don't worry about Belle, imp. She has made it abundantly clear to him that she is taken."

          "I don't like feeling as though I'm at a disadvantage," he said irritably gesturing to the silk covering his eyes. "It's fine when I'm with you or Belle, but her father … he's a different story. I feel as though I'm being led to the gallows tree."

          Sarah took his hand and patted it reassuringly as she led him down the garden path to the door which would lead them into the salon where they were to take tea with Belle and her father. "Don't fret, Imp. It will just be the four of us. You won't be paraded before the court, and Belle has arranged a hunt to keep the visiting royals from interfering."

          Before he could draw air into his starving lungs, he heard raised voices coming from the interior of the castle. "I can't believe I agreed to this!"

          "You didn't have to agree, Papa," Belle said wearily, having had this conversation at least three times with him since breakfast. "Rumpel is my betrothed and there is nothing in the contract saying I can't take tea with him."

          "I don't want that imp in my home!"

          "It's my home too, Papa."

          Maurice paced the Aubusson carpet before the hearth, his face red and his chest heaving in his rage. "It was bad enough when you began writing to that … that …"

          "… man," Belle provided.

          "Beast! He's a beast, Belle, no matter how many fancy words you use to try to dress it up in a pretty package," he blustered.

          Belle's lips twitched as she arched a brow at him. Since when was 'man' a fancy word? "You're just upset because I was clever enough to discover a way around your edict. Now, please calm yourself before I have to call in your physician."

          "I am not upset! I'm bloody well furious! And you are not calling in that crackpot again to ply me with his vile potions," he railed, his voice rising.

          "You're making a spectacle of yourself, Papa. Won't you at least sit down and try to pull yourself together before Rumpel arrives. You are a king, for the sake of the gods! Why don't you try acting like one," she hissed, losing her temper.

          Sarah cleared her throat from the open doorway and fought the smile threatening at her lips. She'd already warned Rumpelstiltskin he should act as though he were meeting Belle for the first time. It wouldn't do well to see their usual familiarity come to play before the king. She could see Belle's eyes drink in the sight of him, her cheeks warming. Surely it was taking a concerted effort for Belle not to rush forward and throw her arms about the imp's neck.

          The sorcerer's ears pricked up, listening and trying to differentiate the myriad sounds in the room. He could hear the king standing off to his left near the crackling flames of the hearth, trying to control his anger, the sound of his labored breathing a dead giveaway. He heard the swish of Belle's skirts and couldn't help but wonder what color she wore; would it compliment her lovely cerulean eyes and lush rose-tinted mouth?

          "Milady," Sarah intoned in a clear voice, taking her hand and joining it with Rumpelstiltskin's. "May I introduce you to your betrothed, Rumpelstiltskin."

          Belle dipped into a curtsy and smiled, one he couldn't regretfully see, she realized. Sarah nudged him in the arm and whispered, "Bow, Imp," next to his ear.

          He graced Belle with his usual flourishing bow, but the impish giggle and trill of rolling r's as he introduced himself were mysteriously absent. She realized he must be as nervous as she was in the presence of her father. His lips were smiling as he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. "My darling love," he breathed against her skin.

          "That's enough of that. Stop drooling all over my daughter and have a seat," the king snarled. He was further disquieted when Belle twined her fingers with the imp's and led him over to the settee to sit down next to him. He chose a comfortable leather chair, so he would be facing them, the coffee table between them and Sarah sat in a chair to Belle's left. The little peasant girl who he'd elevated to her present station looked as though she were ready to jump to Belle's rescue at any moment, and the sight brought him a small measure of comfort.

          His eyes narrowed on his daughter as she prepared a cup of tea for her betrothed, adding a wedge of lemon and two sugar cubes before taking his hand and wrapping his fingers around the delicate china cup. "Thank you, dearest," the imp said, his tone dripping with sincerity. Maurice scowled.

          Belle completely ignored the tension in the room and set out to make her betrothed as comfortable as possible. "And was the business you had to attend to this morning satisfactory?" she asked, her voice steady and clear, referring to the deal he'd been called for that morning. "Duke Smithfield called upon you, did he not?"

          "He did. He was concerned with the land in the southern corner of his kingdom not being as fertile as it should. That land provides a good deal of wheat for his kingdom," the Dark One answered, wondering what Belle could possibly hope to achieve with such information. Not for the first time did he wish he could gaze into her lovely eyes and glean what she was thinking.

          "I suppose you granted his request to make the soil a bit more fertile?"

          "Indeed," he said, setting his cup in its saucer on his lap to keep himself from fidgeting.

          "And what did you get in trade, Rumpel?" she asked, her voice nearly a purr. "His kingdom is rather wealthy, but I know you don't need his baubles. What did you ask for?"

          He swallowed nervously, feeling the king's narrowed gaze upon him. "I asked for a bolt of his finest white silk and a skein of ivory lace to be made into your wedding gown, dear heart," he said, relaxing for the first time since he'd arrived. He could practically hear the king grinding his teeth in vexation and it made him clamp his lips together to keep from giggling.

          Belle leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rumpel. That was most  _thoughtful_  of you," she said. And then it clicked with him. She was trying to show her father he wasn't the heartless Dark One, but her kind, loving and thoughtful fiancée.

          "And how many babies have you snatched from their desperate parents this week?" the king asked in a snarky tone.

          Belle gasped.

          Sarah glared.

          Rumpelstiltskin smirked. "Just a fair few, sire."

          Belle burst out into nervous giggles, knowing that Rumpelstiltskin was merely bating her father. "Rumpel, don't tease. The last baby you dealt for went to that barren couple in the Hebrides who could care and love it as its poor mother couldn't."

          She stuffed a finger sandwich between his parted lips, hoping it would keep another quip from slipping from between his teeth. Imp!

          She hadn't realized her father's face could flush that particular shade of purple. "This is never going to work, Belle," the king growled.

          "Why don't we all go for a stroll in the garden?" Sarah suggested, hastily rising to her feet before a quarrel could begin.

          "That's an excellent idea, Sarah," Belle agreed.

          Maurice grumbled under his breath.

          Rumpelstiltskin rose to his feet and offered his arm to his Belle. "Shall we?" he asked as she placed her small hand in the crook of his elbow.

          Sarah blocked the king's path, reaching down to adjust her skirt before following the pair out the door and leaving him to trail behind. She would not let that man sabotage her friend's happiness and was prepared to derail his best efforts in his endeavors. Belle and her betrothed were happy together. Why couldn't her father see that and give his blessing?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Can't wait to hear your thoughts … please leave some. Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

 

          Marcus and Tristan followed several paces behind the betrothed couple as they navigated the vast rose gardens, Sarah and the king ambling along behind them. Sarah had arranged that little happenstance before Rumpelstiltskin's arrival, wanting to make certain the imp could speak freely with Belle without her father eavesdropping on them. Belle deserved to be carefree and simply enjoy her limited time with him, to relax and let the undue pressure she was under slip away. A slight smile curved her full lips as Belle slipped her hand into Rumpelstiltskin's and twined her fingers with his, walking hand in hand towards her private corner of the garden. She adjusted the small basket holding her embroidery on her arm and glanced surreptitiously at the king from the corner of her eye.

          Maurice was livid, watching the pair closely, his face a mottled angry red. Sarah placed her hand on his arm, delicately nudging him to the right. "Majesty, have you noticed this particular rose bush? It's simply lovely! I do love that you've bred the white and red together to make this hybrid," she said, her voice implying just how fascinating she found the subject.

          His blue eyes swung to her, momentarily taking them off his daughter, a knot of tension pulling his brows together. "Really, dear? I had no idea you appreciated my roses," he said in surprise.

          She continued to prod him closer to the edge of the path, towards the loose stone she'd tripped over just days ago. She urged him to continue talking about his beloved roses and then, just as she'd planned, his rather large foot caught the stone, he overbalanced and tumbled ignominiously into the rose bush. "Sire! Are you all right?" she asked with false sincerity, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her giggles at bay. "Marcus, Tristan, come quickly and help the king," she called to her husband and his squire.

          She winked at Belle as she turned back to see what had happened. Belle's eyes widened before a brilliant smile bloomed on her face. She tightened her grip on Rumpelstiltskin's hand and hurried him down the path … not too far, but far enough for them to disappear around a corner and out of sight of her chaperones.

          "Belle, sweetheart, slow down," her sorcerer grumbled. "Did you forget I can't see with this bloody thing covering my —"

          His words were abruptly cut off as she halted, her arms coming up to circle his neck before her lips met his in a sweet kiss. He forgot they weren't alone in the garden, that the king was mere paces behind them and this was not deemed appropriate courting behavior. All he could think of was the firm pressure of her lips and her nails delving into the curls at his nape, holding him in place.

          He moaned as she nipped sharply at his bottom lip, his hands wrapping about her waist and pulling her against his chest. With one last kiss, she drew away from him and continued down the path. She giggled softly. "Remind me to thank Sarah for her little diversion," she whispered mischievously.

          The imp's mouth gaped open in surprise. "Is that what this is all about, dearest?" he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he heard their guards fall into step behind them. "Your friend giving us a moment for stolen kisses?"

          "Yes," she said, nodding happily even though he couldn't see the gesture.

          He'd do more than thank the minx, he'd make certain a bag of gold found its way onto her kitchen table before the day was out. Material wealth meant nothing to him and it would bring her and her husband comfort … a small price to pay for the gift of a kiss from his beloved on a day he'd been certain to receive none. "So … ah … the minx is happy with the match between us?" he asked hesitantly. "She has accepted it?"

          "Sarah wishes for me to be happy, Rum. She sees how much we love each other and has firmly asserted her assistance in our camp," she retorted, leading him through the small gate which surrounded her sanctuary.

          There was a plum tree in the very center of this section of the garden she called hers, neat rows of flower beds and several stone benches along the path. Her servants had come out earlier and prepared everything per her instructions and she was pleased with the effect. She just wished her betrothed could see it and appreciate what she'd done for him. She led him forward to the comfortable quilt laid out upon the grass beneath her tree and tugged on his hand until he dropped down upon it.

          "What…"

          "I thought we could have a picnic," she said, her voice taking on a hint of shyness. "We don't have to if you'd rather not," she went on to hurriedly explain. "But I thought it would be nice. I know we just had tea, but here we can have a bit more privacy and I felt you might be able to enjoy yourself."

          He felt around for her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a light kiss to her knuckles, his lips smiling against her soft skin. "This is lovely, my darling," he assured her, touched that she was thinking of his comfort in this strained situation they found themselves in. His stomach growled in anticipation, the finger sandwich Belle had stuffed into his mouth earlier, the only thing he'd eaten that day. "What have you prepared for us?"

          She worried her lip hesitantly. "Well, I chose foods which would be relatively easy for you to eat being that you're blindfolded and …"

          "Yes," he said, urging her to continue when she paused.

          "And things I was able to make myself," she finished lamely.

          His lips twitched into a small smile. "You made this? My little princess invaded the kitchen to prepare a meal for her beast with her own two hands," he teased.

          "I did, so don't expect too much. I look forward to being in the Dark Castle with you and those culinary lessons you promised," she retorted, filling a plate with bread and cheese and some cured ham and setting it between them to share. When they'd consumed that, she withdrew a cloth wrapped package from the basket, grinning ruefully. "I … ah … remembered you liked sweets, so I tried to make a dessert."

          She removed the little cakes from the cloth and held one to his lips, grimacing at the chocolate confection that was slightly crisp about the edges. She could only hope the frosting Adelaide had helped her make would mask the over-doneness of the treat. He gripped her wrist lightly in his clawed hand and asked, "Not trying to poison me, are you?"

          "I don't think they're that bad for a first attempt, no," she remarked dryly. "Now open up." He was a perfect gentleman, accepting her offer and biting into the treat, chewing slowly and then with more relish. He didn't have to indulge her and try her questionable efforts at dessert, and she knew the only reason he'd done so was his desire to please her. "I know it's not the best, but —"

          "It's delicious, my Belle, for the simple fact you made it for me," he complimented. "If this is a first attempt, I have many years of satisfaction to look forward to."

          "You're just being nice, Rumpel," she said with a chuckle, pouring him a mug of honeyed mead from the small jug and placing it securely in his hands to wash down the cake.

          "Never say so," he quipped. "I have a reputation to uphold you know."

          She glanced over her shoulder at her guards, sedately patrolling the paths in their boredom. Her father sat on a bench nearby, glowering at the imp, much to her disgust. She wished she could dare lean over and kiss the smirk from Rumpelstiltskin's lips, but she was certain her father would have an apoplectic fit. Instead, she arranged several large throw cushions behind her imp and encouraged him to relax back onto them.

          "Do you think this is a good idea?" he asked, his voice low enough so only she could hear.

          "We are doing nothing untoward," she assured him, picking up the book lying on the blanket and settling at his side. "You are reclining, and I am sitting at your side. Not even Papa should have anything to say about it."

          She opened the book to the first page and read the title.

          "Oh, Belle, is that …" he asked in awe.

          "Yes, it's the first book you sent to me … the one I promised I wouldn't read until you could be with me to enjoy it as well." She blushed prettily as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to her palm. This time when he lowered her hand, he didn't release it. She sighed contentedly and began to read, her voice carrying on the warm summer breeze.

 

*.*.*

 

          Maurice glared at the imp reclining on his lawn, perfectly content and relaxed to lie there on a picnic blanket and listen to Belle read to him. He shifted uncomfortably and winced. He'd probably be pulling rose thorns from his arse for the next sennight! Damn clumsy girl! But then he really couldn't be certain the girl had orchestrated his descent into the rose bush. Sarah sat on his left where they occupied the bench and sighed happily as she took in the scene before them several yards away.

          "I can't remember seeing her highness quite so happy, can you, your majesty?" she asked, turning back to her embroidery and plying her needle. He turned his glare on her and grunted in response. She took it as a sign of encouragement that he wasn't completely opposed to conversation with her and continued. "You can see how much she adores him. I think it's admirable and so romantic they fell in love with one another simply through their letters."

          "Should never have taught her how to read and write," he grumbled.

          "Surely you remember what it's like to share a true and abiding love, your majesty. The love you shared with the late queen was reputed to be the stuff dreams are made of," she said softly. She gave him a level stare and noted the way his eyes clouded with sorrow at the mention of his beloved late wife. She hoped the memory of her would make him open his eyes and see his daughter shared the same with her betrothed.

          "Belle is merely infatuated with the beast. She doesn't know what it is to love a man," he replied stubbornly.

          Sarah pulled her thread tight and the needle  _accidentally_  jabbed the king in his thigh. "Oh! My apologies, your majesty," she exclaimed, lowering her eyes to hide the devilish gleam sparkling in their hazel depths. The man was in serious denial.

          "I think Belle knows her own mind. You've been throwing men into her path for years and she's never shown the slightest interest in any of them. Perhaps her heart has finally chosen for her."

          The king grunted again and rubbed at his injury, his leg smarting painfully. "She's barely seventeen and much too young to know what she wants. She hasn't had time to live yet."

 _And whose fault is that, you arse!_ Sarah thought bitterly. "Yes, perhaps, but she's got a brilliant mind and I have never known her to have flights of fancy. If she's truly in love with him, her feelings won’t change overnight. But the point is moot. There is a contract with Rumpelstiltskin and you know no one breaks a deal with him. In less than a year they will be married."

          "Over my dead rotting corpse," the king gritted out through clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking with rage.

          Sarah jabbed her finger with the needle to quell the laughter which bubbled up in her throat. "I think it's admirable you've let Rumpelstiltskin come to Avonlea to court her."

          "Not that I had any choice in the matter."

          "And they are going to make the most beautiful babies!" she gushed, going in for the kill, unable to resist taunting the discombobulated monarch. "Beautiful heirs to the throne, your majesty."

          Maurice surged to his feet, suddenly feeling nauseated at the thought of his precious daughter with that beast's hands all over her. "Belle!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin sat up in alarm as Belle's book dropped to the blanket between them and a small cry of alarm escaped her lips. He bounded to his feet, dragging Belle up with him and pushing her behind him, taking a protective stance before her and calling his magic to his hands, prepared to defend. He was forced to use his other senses to search out the threat, robbed of his sight as he was. Belle grabbed his right hand before he was able to curse her father.

          "Rumpel, it's fine. Papa simply startled me," she assured him, holding his hands between her own. He'd have to stand in line to curse Maurice when she was done with him.

          "Belle! This visit is over," Maurice hissed as he stalked over to his daughter and took her upper arm in a firm grip.

          She whimpered in distress, wincing at the viselike grip on her arm and Rumpelstiltskin's hand snaked out to coil around her waist, pulling her back to his side. "You will not manhandle my betrothed," he said, snarling at the king.

          "Papa! We still have another hour," Belle protested. "You can't just —"

          "Now, Belle," he commanded, sounding more like the king and less like her father.

          Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, angered and fighting to keep a tight leash on her magic in mixed company. "Can't I at least say goodbye?" she asked, her body trembling with rage which her father misconstrued as mild upset.

          "Quickly," the king hissed but made no move to give them a modicum of privacy.

          "I'm so sorry, Rumpel, I thought we would have more time today," she said softly, her lower lip trembling.

          Rumpelstiltskin gnashed his teeth in barely suppressed anger and released the hold he had on her waist, taking her hands in his. "It's not your fault, dearest. However, I do have something for you before I go." He reached into the pocket of his frock coat and withdrew a small velvet drawstring bag.

          Belle gasped as he opened the ties and shook the contents into the palm of his hand, a glittering ring coming to rest there. "Oh, Rum, it's beautiful," she murmured happily, smiling brightly.

          "I want you to have a proper betrothal ring, my darling. And I want to ask you …" he paused, feeling the eyes of the king upon them.  _Let the old bastard watch!_   "If there was no contract, would you still choose me? Would you still agree to be my wife?"

          "Yes," she gushed, feeling tears sting her eyes as he took her hand and slid the sapphire and diamond ring - made from gold he'd spun himself - onto her finger. "Yes, I will." She threw her arms about his neck and clung to him as he enveloped her in his embrace. She ignored her father's bellow of rage and whispered, "I love you, Rumpel. I will always choose you."

          "I love you, my Belle."

          "Enough!" Maurice cried, grabbing her hand and starting off down the path with his daughter in tow.

          Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes wearily behind the blindfold and listened to their footsteps as they receded down the path. Sarah stepped to his side and laid a tentative hand on his arm. "Don't let the old codger deter you from your courtship, Imp. Belle won't let him turn her against you."

          He ripped the silk covering from his eyes and narrowed his gaze in the direction the king had taken Belle. "I will always fight for her. She's mine … she's been mine since I breathed life back into her and bound her to me. There's nothing he can do to keep her from me." His eyes met hers and she could see the determination within the deep amber pools. "He will never break that contract and even if he somehow managed, I have Belle's own word promising herself to me."

          Sarah quirked a brow at him as he started down the path to the east gate. "You know if you decide to kill him, I'll help you bury the body. I'll even loan you a shovel."

          His giggle trilled through the garden, clearly amused at the little lady in waiting and her wry sense of humor. He chucked her under the chin, bowed low and with a wink, disappeared in a wisp of smoke, grateful Belle could call her friend. It struck him as odd he could do the same.

 

*.*.*

 

          Maurice scowled at Belle as she stalked across the Great Hall and disappeared down the corridor, Marcus and Tristan following behind her as she escaped to her bedchamber. Sarah was nowhere in sight.  _She must be seeing the Dark One off_ , he mused.  _Good riddance!_  He had an entire month before his next visit to court Belle and he felt he could breathe easier now that he was gone. He moved to his gilded throne-like chair on its raised dais and collapsed upon the padded seat, sighing wearily. He would be forced to double his efforts to make Belle see reason and to somehow find the information he sought to break the deal he'd made with the sorcerer.

          King George and Prince James entered the hall, the latter moving off to take refreshment from the servant setting out afternoon tea on the low table in the sitting area. George moved to sit in Belle's seat next to Maurice and smiled. "That was an excellent hunt, Moe. Your daughter should be commended for her wonderful entertainments. You should have joined us," he said, settling back comfortably in the chair and slapping his leather gloves against his leg.

          Maurice sighed. "I would have enjoyed that, no doubt, but I had other business which required my attention."

          "Speaking of business, old friend, I have something I would like to discuss with you," George said, staring thoughtfully at his son as he spoke.

          "Oh?"

          "Yes, I find it is past time for my son to marry," he began, casting Maurice an oily smile. Maurice felt his gut twist in apprehension, but remained silent. "We've been friends for a long time, you and I, and I think it would benefit us to align our kingdoms. James has always looked favorably on Belle and I think they'd make beautiful sons together to rule long after we're gone."

          Maurice brightened considerably at the mental image of his daughter married to the prince … a brave, strong, handsome  _man_  instead of that beast of a sorcerer. "I fear that won't be possible at the present time," he replied evasively. It was nice to dream of another man to betroth his precious daughter to, but even were she free, he didn't know how wise it would be to have her engaged to James. George was desperate for money - as his kingdom was bankrupt - and he didn't want to give his daughter to the prince only to have her suffer for his decision with a future filled with pain and poverty.

          "I'm sorry to hear that, Moe. Does she have a prior commitment? I haven't heard gossip of her promised to another."

          "She is."

          "Might I ask to whom?" George asked, his brow knit with curiosity.

          "Rumpelstiltskin," Maurice said, grinding his teeth together.

          "Surely you jest," George exclaimed, his loud guffaw sounding throughout the cavernous room and echoing back at him. He sobered when Maurice didn't share his mirth. "You're serious."

          "I assure you it is no laughing matter, George. She was ill when she was born, and I nearly lost her as I lost Jeannette. Rumpelstiltskin saved her life and then demanded she be given to him as his bride upon her eighteenth birthday," he explained.

          George scoffed. "Perhaps it would have been kinder to the girl to have let death take her rather than condemn her to such a cruel fate."

          Maurice narrowed his eyes on his fellow noble. "I wouldn't trade a moment of the time I've had with her. I will find a way to break that damn contract."

          George eyed him doubtfully. "No one has broken a deal with Rumpelstiltskin and lived to speak of it."

          "There has to be a way to do it, I just haven't found it yet."

          George sneered at him. "Really, Moe, be sensible about this. Perhaps you're looking for the wrong answers."

          Maurice raised a brow at his friend. "How's that?"

          "Maybe instead of trying to break the contract, which is nearly impossible, you should be looking for a way to take Rumpelstiltskin out of the equation. He is a scourge on the entire realm and I can think of no one who would mourn his loss."

          "He's immortal, George."

          "I'm not suggesting you kill him, Moe. Simply find a way to remove him from the board. You have a fairy who is patron to your family. Consult her and see if perhaps she holds the answers you seek." George rose to his feet to join his son for a cup of tea, grinning down at the king. "Ask the right questions, man."

          Maurice watched his friend descend the steps of the dais, hope springing to life in his chest for the first time in seventeen years.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and comments. They feed my muse! Xoxoxo.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *Flings chapter and runs away*

 

          Maurice stood on the balcony his spacious chambers provided and chanted the few words which would bring his patron fairy to him … or at least they were supposed to do so. He had stood on that balcony every night for over a month now trying to summon that infernal fairy and she had yet to heed his call. What good was a fairy godmother if she would not come when called. Did she think he would summon her without a very good reason? He'd had to suffer through another of the sorcerer's visits to court his daughter and he didn't know if he'd survive another. It was torture seeing the imp fawn all over Belle as though he cherished her above anything.

          Maurice was convinced it was an act. The Dark One was named that for a reason. His soul was as black as the deepest pit of hell and was incapable of such tender feelings. There must be some other reason he desired Belle … some dark purpose he had in mind for her once he had her behind the walls of his imposing fortress. And he couldn't bear the thought of his sweet daughter in the clutches of that demon.

          His stomach churned violently every time he looked upon the betrothal ring gracing Belle's hand. She never removed the damn thing and it mocked him every time the light shone on the gem, making it sparkle and dance, drawing everyone's attention. And the letters! He was beginning to believe his daughter had a quill permanently attached to her bloody hand. Parchment poofed in and out so many times during the day it made his head ache. What could they possibly have to say to one another, he could only imagine, and those imaginings were not good. He was seducing his sweet girl with his words and everyone knew the dark sorcerer was a master when it came to twisting even the most innocent turn of phrase.

          He sighed wearily and scratched at the bites on his arm, compliments of the bed bugs which had infested his bed. And where the hell would his mattress have contracted bed bugs?! No doubt a cruel jest from that imp! Belle refused to believe her betrothed had been responsible, arguing he wouldn't do such a thing despite the fact Maurice treated him abominably when he came to visit her. She was blind to what was in front of her and he had no hope of making her see the truth!

          "Such deep thoughts, your majesty. What has you so troubled?" an angelic voice asked to his right.

          Maurice whirled around to glare at the woman perched upon the edge of the balustrade, toying with the wand between her delicate fingers. She was smiling slightly as though the king's upset were of no import to her. He took her in, his lip curling into a sneer at the short fuchsia dress … if it could even be called that as short as the skirt was, the hem hitting her mid-thigh.

          "Lira! It's about time you decided to heed my call," he hissed irritably, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at her.

          The fairy chuckled softly and waved a hand dismissively. "I do apologize, your majesty, but Rhuel Ghorm wasn't certain I should heed it at all. However, my curiosity was just a bit too much to bear … so … here I am," she snarked, waving a hand over herself.

          Maurice glared at her, his eyes twin pools of ice. "I need your advice and perhaps assistance to free my daughter …"

          "Not this again," she said wearily, rolling her eyes. "We've been over this before. I cannot help you break the contract with the Dark One. Your daughter is only alive because of him. SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO LIVE, MOE!"

          He bristled at the demeaning nickname she persisted in calling him. Sometimes he wondered why he'd been cursed with such a ghastly fairy. She had no respect for him. "That is beside the point. I —"

          "No, it's not. It is _precisely_ the point. She is an abomination which was destined to die at birth. It is against nature she is alive and all because you didn't heed Blue's warning. You went behind her back and called on a dark power to save your daughter. I cannot interfere. You made the contract, and now you must abide by its strictures."

          "Belle is not an abomination! She is sweet and kind and beautiful both in appearance as well as within her heart. I couldn't ask for anything more precious than her," he hissed defensively. "I cannot lose her."

          Lira shook her head in exasperation. "If this is why you've called me here —" she said, preparing to leave.

          "No, wait!" he said, stepping forward in a panic. "I need your advice. It was recently brought to my attention that perhaps I've been asking the wrong questions, that there might be a way of keeping him from her without breaking the contract?"

          Lira's dark sable eyes narrowed on him. "What are you planning, your majesty? It doesn't bode well for anyone to conspire so against the Dark One."

          "Is there a way to trap him, to hold him prisoner and keep him far away from Belle? Is it possible such a feat can be accomplished?" he asked hopefully.

          The fairy arched a brow and tapped her wand against her thigh as she idly kicked her other foot to and fro. "Hmm, I would have to consult with Blue on that. There might be a way to confine the Dark One, but it would be tricky," she mused. "Might you have some place to hold him?"

          "There is the dungeon. I haven't had cause to use it for many a year, but there is one in the bowels of the castle."

          "His magic will have to be bound to prevent his escape and it would take quite a bit of fairy magic to prepare the cell to hold him." She leveled him with a pointed stare. "Are you willing to pay such a high price to keep your daughter from him?"

          "I will pay  _any_  price to save her. She is all I have left of my Jeannette," he said, brushing at the tears which sprang up behind his closed lids at the thought of his beloved late wife.

          "You may not be so willing once that price is required," she said, her bright pink lips drawing up into a smirk.

          "It needs to be done before the first Saturday of the coming month."

          "I will speak with Blue at once and see what must be done." She shifted back into her fairy form, her fuchsia wings unfurling from her back and lifting her into the air. "Fair thee well, your majesty. I shall return soon."

          Maurice breathed a sigh of relief as he felt hope bloom in his chest … the first ray of hope he'd had in seventeen years.

 

*.*.*

 

          The shockwave shook the palace with the force of a canon blast and unseated Sarah where she sat upon the settee with her embroidery. She had just managed to pull herself back to her feet when Belle staggered from the little room which adjoined her bedchamber reserved for the servants who used to watch over her, but were no longer needed. She'd decided to put it to a better use and had transformed it into a potions room, one which was hidden to everyone but her and Sarah. She might have a firm grasp on her magic, but her potion skills were abysmal at best.

          Sarah's lips twitched as she tried not to laugh at her friend. She failed, her giggles filling the room. Belle glared at her and brushed her fallen locks away from her soot covered face. "I think I added a tad too much powdered asphodel," she said, coughing.

          "Your papa is going to begin to worry about all these explosions, don't you think?" Sarah asked wryly, retrieving her embroidery and resuming her seat on the settee.

          "Thunder, don't you know? Freak thunderstorms," Belle quipped, waggling her brows up and down.

          "Where did you even get that spell book?"

          Belle shifted her gaze away as she went to the basin on the stand in the corner and filled it with cool water from the pitcher to wash the soot from her face and hands. "I … ah … I may have summoned it from Rumpel's library," she said, flushing guiltily beneath the soot.

          "Oh, Belle, was that wise? What if he finds out?"

          "And just how else am I supposed to learn?" she asked belligerently, resentful of the fact she had no one to teach her how to master this aspect of her power.

          "I'm certain the imp would teach you if you but told him your secret," Sarah remarked gently.

          Belle sighed as she drew the wet cloth across her face. "I'm going to tell him … just not yet, Sarah."

          Sarah rose from the settee and made her way over to Belle, taking her hands in her own. "He loves you, Belle. He more than any other will not judge you for your gift."

          Belle scoffed and moved to sit on the hope chest at the foot of her bed, dropping her head into her hands. "Gift? Pfft! More of a curse if you ask me."

          Sarah moved to sit beside her, drawing her into the comforting circle of her arms. "Belle, how can you say that? You are capable of so many wonderful things."

          "Wonderful? What about the time I set fire to the tapestry in the north wing because I was angry at Gaston for pulling my braids? Or the time I made Lord Percival fall from his horse just because I thought it would serve him right for teasing you? How can  _you_  say it's so wonderful when my magic hurts someone or destroys something?"

          "Belle, you were a child then, only nine years old. You can't be held responsible for something in which you had no control. You haven't lost control of your power in years. And you would never intentionally harm anyone," she said, trying to reassure her. "The imp isn't like the small-minded people of this kingdom who fear all forms of magic. He will understand if you but tell him. Really, how much longer do you think to keep this from him?"

          "Soon?" Belle offered, wincing at the quavering tone of her voice. "I'll tell him soon." What if he didn't understand and shunned her for it? It was one of the many reasons she'd never told anyone about her magic. She feared the scorn and fearful looks which would be cast her way. She didn't think she could ever bear to have the man she loved look upon her in such a way. It would be unavoidable once they married to hide it from him, but she took comfort in the knowledge she still had a bit of time before that happened.

          A wisp of magic permeated the air as a letter dropped into Belle's lap. "Speaking of the imp," Sarah murmured, rising and returning to her embroidery to give Belle privacy to read her letter in peace.

 

 

_My darling love,_

 

_Are you still angry with me, my love? I know it was childish of me to infest your father's bed with bugs, but you have to admit he more than deserved it. Twice now, I've called upon you to court you properly and twice he has cut my visit short, whisking you away from me in a tantrum. I cannot **see** you, Belle, and it just grows more frustrating._

 

_I don't know how I am going to endure the next ten months, my darling, when you have so consumed my every thought. I am constantly thinking of you, Belle. The feel of your hair as it slips through my fingers, the softness of your skin as you press yourself so closely to me and the taste of your lips on mine are driving me to madness. I want you by my side always and cannot wait for the day I make you my wife._

 

_You are a distraction I can ill afford in my line of work, albeit a welcome one. I returned this afternoon from a deal in the Southlands and I found myself thinking I would have to take you there if for nothing more than to walk through the countryside. Everything was so green and lush, the wildflowers so colorful and the sky as bright as your lovely eyes, my Belle. I want you to see what I see when I travel. I want you to experience it all. It's not fair you have seen so little as sheltered as your father has kept you for so many years. I acquired the unicorn foal I needed, and he would have captivated you, sweetheart. I would have given anything to have you there with me. Perhaps after we are married, we may travel there together so you may see the herd with your own eyes? Would you enjoy that?_

 

_I yearn for you, my love. I long for the day when I can hold you in my arms and **look** into your eyes without this infernal blindfold hiding you away from me. I want to  **see** you so badly … the passion and desire I feel within you evident on your beautiful face. At times I feel like a lovesick fool, pouring my heart out to you in our letters, but I don't know how else to share my feelings with you. I've never bared my soul to another as I have to you, never trusted another soul as I have you. You make me feel like a man, my Belle, instead of the monster I am, and it makes me love you all the more._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Rumpel_

 

 

          "From the dreamy sighs, and the fact you're about to melt into a puddle of lovesick goo, I take it he's either writing beautiful poetry or telling you how much he wants to take you to his bed. Maybe I ought to read this one. Nothing like a bit of lusty talk to get a girl going," Sarah sing songed with a waggle of her brows.

          "Sarah!" Belle gasped, completely scandalized by her no-nonsense friend. She could always depend on her to say the first thing which popped into her mind. The girl had  _no_  tact. "He did  _not_  mention anything about his bed!"

          "More's the pity," she said with a dramatic gasp. "It would serve you right."

          Belle turned startled cerulean eyes on her companion. "Why would you say that?"

          "Oh, Belle, you truly are an innocent," Sarah said with a sigh. "Do you not know the state you leave the poor imp in at the end of his visit when you've spent the better part of said visit kissing and touching him … constantly?"

          Belle stared at her blankly.

          "He probably poofs himself to some icy region where he can dip his nether parts into the snow!"

          "Gods!"

          Sarah smirked at the furious blush which climbed into the apples of Belle's cheeks at such a forbidden subject. "Think about what he makes you feel, Belle. I promise it is equally difficult for him. It will make your wedding night absolutely spectacular!"

          Belle crawled onto her bed and buried her flaming face under her pillow.

 

*.*.*

 

          The violet smoke had barely dissipated around his form before he was enveloped in Belle's waiting arms. In the past few weeks, he'd taken to arriving with the blindfold already in place so she could greet him without having to wait on Sarah to tie the scrap of silk about his eyes first. It had only been two days since he'd been with her, but it felt like a lifetime and the sheer pleasure at having her in his arms again overwhelmed him. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck as he crushed her against his chest, her scent as intoxicating as ever … her lovely fragrance of roses mixed in with her own unique scent and … magic?

          "You've been to see that blasted hedge witch again, haven't you, dearest?" he asked, trailing his lips along the sensitive flesh of her neck, his breath fanning hotly against the shell of her ear and making her shiver pleasantly.

 _Hedge witch?_  She stiffened slightly in his arms and drew herself away from the close embrace to stare up into his face. "What do you mean?"

          He chuckled softly, resting his brow against hers. "You smell like magic. The question is … if you needed something of a magical means, why didn't you wait and ask me for what you needed?"

          "You can smell magic?" she asked incredulously, her eyes wide with panic. For once she was grateful he couldn't see her, grateful for the contract which kept him from looking into her eyes and seeing the secrets she kept hidden from him.

          "Of course," he said, flourishing his hand at her side as if she should have known.

          Belle trembled in his arms and cursed herself. She'd actually brewed a successful potion that morning, something simple, a draught to help her father's frazzled nerves and perhaps make today a bit more tolerant for him. But how could she have known the magic would cling to her? And how was it he could sense the magic of the potion she'd made, but not the innate power which coursed through her veins? Something was definitely peculiar about all this, but unless she was ready to divulge her secrets, she couldn't very well ask him.

          Instead, she opted to change the subject. She ran a soothing hand over his nape and drew his head forward, her lips meeting his is a soft kiss. "Are we alone?" he asked, holding back from kissing her as deeply as she wished.

          "Yes, Sarah and Marcus are waiting for us just up the path," she said, nipping at his bottom lip. He swallowed her soft moan and he opened for her and let her in, her tongue sliding sinuously against his. And he knew if he let it progress much farther, he would be in no fit state to greet her father. With a sigh of regret, he broke the kiss, idly running his fingers through the silky strands of her hair.

          She laid her head against his chest, content to stand within the circle of his arms for just a moment longer. "I've missed you, Rumpel," she murmured.

          "As I have you, my Belle." He stepped back and offered his arm to her, so they could make their way to the salon where the king waited for their afternoon tea. Belle placed her small hand in the crook of his elbow and began to lead him down the path. "Now are you going to answer my question?"

          Belle crooked a brow at him. "What question?"

          "You know perfectly well, dearest. Why do you smell like magic?"

          "Um … I just ... I just needed a potion for Papa," she said. She wasn't lying … not exactly. She just wasn't admitting the entire truth. "He's been a bit on edge and I wanted a potion to help him relax. Your visits don't exactly provoke calming thoughts within him unfortunately."

          "Indeed not," he replied, his impish giggle carrying on the breeze.

          He greeted Sarah with a sweeping bow as they met up with Belle's friends on the path, to which she laughed. "Behave, Imp. Hopefully his majesty is in a better mood today and won't send Belle off to her room before the end of your visit."

          "One can hope, dearie."

          Belle's brow knit into a frown at the thought of her father and his unyielding prejudice against her betrothed. "I wish he would just realize we love each other and  _want_  to be together. Shouldn't a parent want their child to be happy?" she asked, her voice radiating sadness.

          Rumpelstiltskin pulled her to a halt and reached out to trail his fingertips along the side of her face, the pad of his thumb brushing over her lips. "He does want you to be happy, my darling, just not with me. What father would be happy to marry his precious daughter off to a beast?"

          "Pfft!" she huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "You're not a beast or a monster or any of those other vile names you see fit to call yourself. You're the  _man_  I love, the man I've chosen to give my heart to and Papa can just learn to accept it or content himself with losing me forever."

          "Belle, I wouldn't ask that of you. You don't have to choose between us."

          "Apparently, I do. Could you truly see him coming to the Dark Castle to visit? It would be a nightmare!" she scoffed, her lips pressed into a tight line of irritation. "And I don't even want to think about how he's going to react to his first grandchild. I don't think I could bear seeing him shun our child, Rum."

          His lips parted on a gasp, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. "Our child? You want to have children with me?"

          Belle's features softened, and she felt a pang in her own heart for her damaged imp. He was still so insecure in their relationship, no matter how much she tried to show him she wanted him, needed him and loved him with every fiber of her being. "Of course, I want to have children with you. I love you," she whispered reverently. "Besides, Bae is going to want to have a brother or sister someday, hmm?"

          "But look at me," he said, waving a hand over his beastly form. "What if …"

          She pressed her fingers to his lips to still the words she didn't want to hear. "Don't. Even. Say it. Don't even _think_ it. Whatever children we have will be beautiful and they will be loved. Don't let your fear diminish what we can have together. Please?"

          Sarah grabbed her husband's arm and whipped him around until he was facing the other way, giving her friends a moment of privacy to deal with this newest issue between them for which Belle would be eternally grateful.

          "I never thought …" he said, swallowing around the lump of emotions which had formed in his throat. The thought of having a child with her was more than he'd ever dared to hope for. She clasped him tightly to her as he rested his brow to her shoulder, her hand petting his hair in an effort to soothe him as he fought to collect himself.

          "I know. I know, darling," she crooned gently, her lips pressed to his ear. "Sometimes it's hard to imagine things you never dared let yourself hope for. I was never able to imagine having a husband, one I could love so freely. And when I tried, it was no more than an elusive dream. Now I have you, Rumpel, and I thank the gods every day that I do."

          "I love you so much, my Belle," he whispered against the corner of her mouth before pressing his lips to hers in a kiss wrought from the weight of his feelings for her. The Dark One growled ominously in the far corners of his mind as a little more of the girl's light flooded the spinner's soul. It cursed the enchantress for the vile schemer she was and for leading him to the girl in the first place. He missed the days when it had been he who controlled the body he inhabited, the days when he had been able to plot and scheme to bring misery to those he dealt with. Now he was caged within the spinner's mind, locked away with no escape since the girl had come so fully into his life.

          Finally, he drew away from her and let her lead him into the open French doors of the salon. He paused a moment to greet the king before sitting on the comfortable sofa, his Belle sitting at his side with his hand firmly clasped within her own.

 

*.*.*

 

          Maurice sat back in his chair and smiled pleasantly at his daughter. She crooked a brow at him, her lips parting in a surprised gasp. He was in turn surprised she'd even noticed him as absorbed in the imp as she was … as she always was. It took everything in him to contain his glee, reveling in the thought that the Dark One would soon no longer be a problem. Of course, the sorcerer once again captured Belle's attention, pulling a small book from within his dragon hide coat and placing it her hands.

          "I thought this might pique your interest, dearest," Rumpelstiltskin said, his thumb brushing over the embossed cover.

          Belle's smile brightened, and she raised his hand to brush his fingertips over her lips. He might not be able to see it, but she would insure he could feel it. "Poetry, Rumpel? I can't see you having this in our library," she teased, somehow unable to picture her devilish imp sitting alone by the fire reading poetry.

          "Came with the castle," he said with a giggle. "There were many things I found when I first took possession of the Dark Castle, but the library housed very little in the way of books. What is there is mostly what I've picked up over the years. Do you like it? If not, I can choose something more to your tastes."

          "No, this is perfect," she said, sitting back against the sofa cushions and pressing as closely as she dared against his side. She didn't want to give her crotchety father any excuse to cut their visit short. It didn't matter that Rumpelstiltskin's weekly visits had gone from once a week to three. She cherished every moment she got to spend with him. But it was these monthly visits in the presence of her father which seemed to be most important. She was determined to convince her father she was serious in holding up her end of the bargain, that she was marrying for love.

          The embroidery hoop sitting upon Sarah's knees remained untouched as Belle began to read from her new book. She was quite busy watching the king surreptitiously from the corner of her eye. He was calmer today, but that could be due to the potion Belle had brewed for him and slipped into his morning tea. But something convinced her otherwise.  _The old bastard is up to something and you can bet it's nothing you'll like,_  she thought, her hazel eyes narrowing in suspicion. He looked entirely too smug, a look he'd never before worn in Rumpelstiltskin's presence.

          She barely glanced up at the servant who entered with the tea service and set it on the low table before hurriedly taking her leave. The king rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he leaned forward and poured himself a cup of tea.  _Since when does he get his jollies over a cup of tea?_  She reached out and snatched up a scone, watching him closely and there when he met her gaze and smiled, she felt her skin crawl.

          "What has you in such a good mood today, your majesty?" she asked sweetly as she stirred sugar into her tea. He simply winked at her and sat back in his seat, sipping his tea.

          Belle finished preparing a cup for herself and Rumpelstiltskin and wrapped his hands around it before taking up her own. She grinned at Sarah. "We shouldn't ask about such things, Sarah, and just be grateful for it."

          Sarah's gaze swung between Belle and the king, a feeling of unease creeping along her spine. His icy blue eyes gleamed with anticipation as if he were just waiting for something to happen, his lips widening into a satisfied smirk. She looked back at Belle to find a frown creasing her brow.

          "Sarah, did your mother change the blend of our tea? It tastes a bit odd," Belle said, a shudder shaking her petite frame as she set her cup back on its saucer and moved it back onto the silver tea service. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow and she felt as though Sarah had laced her corset too tightly. But that was nothing compared to the horror which overtook her face as the tea cup Rumpelstiltskin held slid from his fingers and crashed to the rug beneath their feet.

          His green-gold flesh had taken on the hue of chalk and he gasped for breath, his blackened nails clawing at the cravat at his throat to clear his airway. "Belle …" He collapsed at her feet, sliding from the sofa and writhing in pain, feeling as though he were burning from the inside out.

          "Rumpel!" she gasped, fear evident in her voice as she dropped down beside him, her hands looking for the source of his injury. "What happened? Please! Please tell me how to help you."

          "What did you do?!" Sarah fumed as she whirled on the king, rising to her feet to help Belle who was losing the battle with her own ailments.

          "I finally found a solution to our problem," he answered calmly.

          "You're hurting Belle too!" she spat, torn between her dearest friend and the imp. They were both clearly in pain and she hadn't any idea how to help them.

          Belle's cerulean eyes were filled with the weight of her heartbreak as she turned them on her father. "You did this, Papa? You poisoned Rumpel? How could … how could you … do this?"

          "I told you I would find a way to save you, my girl," he said, waving Marcus forward to summon the king's own guards to haul the imp away. "Don't worry, he isn't dying, though I daresay he wishes that weren't the case at present. It was merely a small dose of fairy dust he ingested."

          Sarah lifted the Dark One's head into her lap as Belle collapsed against his chest, unable to fight the wave of nausea rolling over her, her head feeling as though it were too heavy to hold up any longer. "You put fairy dust into the sugar bowl, didn't you? Knowing it wouldn't harm you because you don't take sugar in your tea," Sarah stated simply, relieved she hadn't had time to drink her own.

          The king snorted. "Lira assured me the side effects would be minor to everyone but the Dark One."

          Rumpelstiltskin groaned, his teeth clenched as he turned his gaze in the king's direction. "Fool! C-Can't you s-see that by hurting me, you've also hurt B-Belle? She's bound to me … has always b-been …"

          "Marcus! Marcus, help me with her," Sarah cried as Rumpelstiltskin lost consciousness. "Lift her off and take her to her rooms so I can care for her."

          "Of course, dear," her husband responded, lifting Belle into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carrying her from the room, ducking his head so the king couldn't see the rage simmering in his dark eyes.

          "No! I need … I need to s-stay. He needs m-me," Belle breathed, her cries following her out the door as her most trusted guard carried her away. "Marcus, n-no!"

          Sarah cradled Rumpelstiltskin's head in her lap, unable to bear the thought of Belle grieving should anything happen to her betrothed. "Are you really so desperate to destroy her, your majesty? Because she will never forgive you if you harm him."

          "I have saved her, you silly girl. The contract cannot be fulfilled if he is powerless and caged. He will never touch my daughter now," the king hissed, a hint of madness entering his eyes. "I will make certain of that."

          Three of the king's personal guards came in and tugged the unconscious sorcerer from Sarah's tight grasp. "Where are you taking him?"

          The smile which curved Maurice's thin lips made the blood curdle in her veins. "To his own personal hell I have designed for him."

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

          Sarah held Belle's long chestnut tresses away from her ashen face as the latter heaved and retched into a chamber pot. Her stomach roiled as though someone were trying to carve it from her body, sweat beaded her brow and her hands clenched the porcelain in a vicious grip, her knuckles white from the strain. Sarah pressed a cool cloth to Belle's brow as she collapsed back against her friend, tears flowing unchecked from her cerulean eyes.

          "Is he back yet?" she asked weakly, taking a moment to gather her strength. The effort of holding her magic in check was becoming a physical battle and she ground her teeth together in the war raging in her body, fighting to contain it.

          "Not yet, Belle, but I'm certain he won't be much longer," Sarah murmured, holding her within the circle of her arms and rocking her gently to and fro in an effort to soothe her.

          "I have to … have to …"

          "Marcus will discover where they've taken him, Belle. You know he will," Sarah said, praying to every god she knew that she wasn't lying.

          Belle twined her fingers tightly with Sarah's. "You cannot help me this time, Sarah. If you do, you will have to leave Avonlea. You know my father would brand you a traitor if you helped me go against him."

          "Pfft!" Sarah scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm not worried about the king. Marcus and I will help you whether you wish it or not."

          "You would come with us?" Belle asked, her eyes flaring with hope.

          "As if you could get on without me. I'm certain there's room for me and Marcus in that moldy old castle the imp calls home. At the very least, a room in the servant's quarters," she said, plucking at a loose thread on her beige day dress. "Marcus will follow me anywhere, he's said on more than one occasion."

          Belle threw an arm around her and hugged her tightly. "We have more rooms than we know what to do with them all. Rumpel's been alone for so long, it won't hurt him to have the two of you about. I —" Her words were cut off by an agonized groan as her stomach recoiled once more.

          "Belle, tell me what I can do," Sarah pleaded with her, feeling helpless. A feeling which didn't set well with her at all.

          The door to Belle's bedchamber crashed inwardly and banged forcefully against the wall as Marcus rushed in, his face grim. "He's in the dungeon. Tristan is waiting there for us to lend his aid when we arrive should we need it. That blasted fairy has the cell magic-proofed and there's no way the Dark One could magic himself out even if he were in any condition to do so."

          "W-What do you m-mean? What have they done to him?" Belle cried, struggling up on trembling legs to face her cohort.

          "Highness —"

          "Don't 'Highness' me, Marcus! I gave up claim to my throne when I accepted Rumpel's proposal. I am Belle, consort to the Dark One, so stop with the title crap and tell me what has happened to my imp!" she commanded, her voice rising shrilly with her anger.

          Marcus' eyes widened, and his face flushed with embarrassment at the reprimand. "Apologies, milady!"

          Sarah reached out and smacked him in the back of his head. "What did she say, you lummox?!" She scowled at him when he shot her a lusty wink. The thought of battle … any kind whatsoever … always brought out the beast within him.

          He sobered instantly as Belle groaned again, the hand clutching at her abdomen glowing a faint gold. His eyes were wide as they searched the hazel orbs of his wife. "What the hell?"

          "Marcus, could we possibly discuss this later?"

          But Belle noted the slight hint of fear in his dark eyes and sighed. "Magic, Marcus. I have magic … my whole life … and no one knows but Sarah. I'm sorry I made her keep my secret from you, so don't think to go blaming her."

          "Well," he said with a grimace. "The Dark One has magic and he's not such a bad sort if you disregard all the stories we were raised on to make us fear him. And he's going to need it if we're to get him away from the king."

          Belle squared her shoulders as another wave of her magic surged through her in a rippling wave of heat. The fairy dust she'd ingested seemed to amplify her already formidable power and she felt like she was going to explode with the force of a cannon blast. She stepped around her friends and out into the corridor, taking another to the left and down several winding staircases to the lowest levels of the castle, Marcus and Sarah following in her wake.

          She didn't wait for further explanations as to what her father might be doing to her beloved. She could feel his pain, his rage … his hopelessness, and it made her more determined than ever to save him, to save him as he had saved her at one time. She'd always felt a connection with him, from that first night when he'd finally come to her on her birthday. That feeling of being whole and loved, but now it was like a tangible force drawing her to him.

          Sarah shrieked as a tapestry crashed to the stone floor, followed by a suit of armor crumpling as though something had crushed it in a mighty hand. "Belle, you might want to reign it in just a bit!" she hissed furiously, ducking behind her husband to dodge a vase of flowers as they reached the corridor which would lead them into the dungeons.

          Belle didn't stop until they dipped into the darkened passageway; even the torches sputtering and extinguishing in the face of her wrath. Sarah plowed into her back as Belle halted suddenly. Without thinking, Belle turned her palm up, a bright orange flame leaping up to light the way. The magic was in control. It had broken free from the tight coil in the center of her being and flowed throughout her body, ebbing and then bursting along her fingertips, prepared to do her bidding.

          Her eyes flashed an icy blue and Sarah gasped. "Belle, are you alright?" she asked nervously, never having seen her friend in such a state.

          "I will be as soon as I get to Rumpel," she said, hurrying down the corridor. The damp stone walls and the rank smell of something rotting didn't deter her. She simply lifted her skirts a bit higher and stepped over the puddles, one thought on her mind … Rumpelstiltskin. His name was a soft litany of softly whispered words, remembrances of his lips pressed to hers and the gentle caress of his hands, spurring her onward.

          Fire lanced down her back and something which sounded suspiciously like a whip reached her ears, followed by a long, agonized groan. The flame in her palm flared higher as she fought back a wave of nausea.  _If they dared …_

For her father to have him lashed when Rumpelstiltskin was already incapacitated was unspeakable. She closed her palm on the flame as she stepped out into the light of the torches illuminating the center of the circular room, cells lining the walls. One of the doors was open to her right and she strode forward, her stride purposeful.

          Her hands glowed faintly with golden magic and she turned her wrist sharply, bending it to her will. The guards standing before the door crumpled at her feet in a deep sleep as she stepped over them to enter the cell. She swallowed convulsively against the lump in her throat, fighting back the bile threatening to choke her. Her father stood off to the left, a satisfied sneer curling his lips, the tiny fuchsia fairy hovering at his side, smiling gleefully at her handiwork.

          And Rumpelstiltskin … her lower lip trembled as fresh tears stung her eyes. Her beloved was suspended from a beam above his head, his arms stretched tightly above his head, his wrists enchained in manacles. He'd been stripped of everything but his tight leather pants, his toned gold speckled back glistening in the torchlight, crisscrossed with deep lacerations. Her rage fueled her magic, turning it dark as it coursed through her veins.

          Marcus rushed past her and ripped the whip from the guard's hand, throwing his fist into the man's face repeatedly until he dropped to the stained stones below his feet. Sarah took the ring of keys from his belt and reached up to release the injured sorcerer as Belle turned her wrath on her father.

          "Belle, what are you doing down here? You shouldn't be here, my girl," Maurice tried to placate her, frowning as he took in the disheveled state of her clothes and the snarled mess of tangles in her hair.

          Belle's eyes narrowed as her fingers darted out and captured the fairy, enclosing her in a ring of dark gold magic which encased her hand. The tiny human like creature struggled futilely, powerless in the face of Belle's power. "What have you done to my beloved?" she hissed.

          Lira snarled, struggling to get her arms free to use her wand. "I've bound his powers to be useless in this cell."

          "And if he's released?"

          "They will be restored. I tried to warn your father we wouldn't be able to hold him indefinitely without rendering him powerless," she said, gasping as Belle's hand tightened about her.

          Belle's eyes darkened, and the fairy screamed. "You will release the binding spell, so I may take him from here," she commanded.

          "Belle, you're free, darling. He has no claim to you here. I've finally been able to secure your future," Maurice said, wondering why she was so determined to destroy his plans.

          "I don't  _want_  to be free, Papa. All I want in this world is to be with him. I  _love_  him!" she screeched, her voice rising in the gloom of the dungeon. "And now you've tried to take him from me … something I will _not_ allow."

          He stepped forward, his hand outstretched to her, beseeching her to understand. "He's bewitched you, darling. Lira can help you. Let us help you."

          She lifted her hand and with a flick of her wrist, he was pinned to the wall with invisible bonds, held there by the force of her will. "I tried to wait, Papa. I was going to give you this last year to be with me while I tried to make you see that I was happy with the contract, happy I would be his wife. I had hoped for a relationship with you after I was married, but I will not have you anywhere near us after what you've done here today."

          "You have magic!"

          "Really? That's all you have to say?" she asked, shaking her head angrily.  _Had her father always been this thick?_  She ignored him as he was no longer a threat and stared down at the fairy still trembling in her hand. "And as for you … remove the binding spell, Lira."

          The fairy laughed derisively. "What's the matter, princess? Can't you do it yourself?"

          A slow smile spread over Belle's lips and she pinched the fairy's wing sharply between her fingers. "I can do better than that," she said with a breathy little laugh. "You hurt my sorcerer; perhaps I should return the favor." She pulled on the wing and Lira screamed, her tiny face contorted with pain. She dropped the fairy to the ground and raised her foot. The fairy reached for her wand only to find it clasped tightly in Belle's hand.

          "NO!" Lira cried as Belle snapped the silver and fuchsia wand in two. She regained her human form, her powers gone, and Belle smiled in satisfaction.

          "Go, begone. At least I know you won't be able to hurt anyone else." Belle turned her back on her father and went to kneel at Rumpelstiltskin's side as the former fairy stumbled from the cell.

          He was lying on his side, his head cradled in Sarah's lap. "Rumpel? Rumpelstiltskin, look at me … please," she implored, her voice breaking as she took in the ruined state of his back. He shivered as she brushed his hair away from his tightly closed eyes.

          "Can't," he said through clenched teeth. "Can't break …"

          "To hell with the bloody contract."

          Maurice shrieked as pieces of mortar and stone crumbled, the entire foundation of the castle quaking under the force of her rage. She leveled her stare on him, her eyes flashing. His lips snapped closed, his face pale and bloodless and his eyes wide with fright. Later when she had to think back on her actions, she was sure she would feel regret for making her father fear her, but now all she could think about was getting Rumpelstiltskin and their friends to safety.

          "Belle …" the imp groaned, clasping her hand tightly in his own. "Are you hurt?" he asked, more worried for her than for himself. If they could get him out of the cell, he could heal himself.

          "I'm fine, darling." Belle focused her attention on him, her delicate hand lovingly cupping his face. "Oh gods! You're burning up!"

          "Fairy dust … was laced … laced with something specifically for me … sick …" he stammered, his brow furrowed with the effort to make himself understood.

          Sarah laid a hand on Belle's shoulder. "How the hell are we going to get him out of here? Where can we take him? The guards —"

          Belle arched a brow. "You know … magic," she said, flourishing her wrist as she'd seen her imp do on more than one occasion. She leaned down and kissed his brow, her fingers carding through the soft curls at his temples. "Darling, I need you to focus. Can you do that for me? I need you to guide me."

          "What?" he groaned, his voice raspy with pain.

          "I need you to guide us home, Rumpel. Concentrate on the Dark Castle, on  _our_  home. Please, love," she said, her hands glowing faintly as they settled over his temples. "I remember your drawings," she crooned softly. "I can see the castle, the Great Hall, the library, but I need you to guide me there. Help me take us home."

          "Home …"

          The tears flowed unchecked down her face at the sorrow in his voice. He rested his hand over hers and she concentrated as his thoughts burst like a rose in bloom upon her mind's eye. Images of room after room rushed past in a blur. "Pick a room, Rumpel. Show me where you want to be," she murmured, her voice helping him to focus until finally he pictured his bedroom, the large four poster bed draped in crimson and gold standing out prominently.

          Sarah took her husband's hand and then grasped Belle's forearm in her trembling hand, holding tightly to both, terrified one of them would be lost in the void. She closed her eyes as she felt the magic wrap around her and tug her into the ether. When she opened her eyes, they were sitting in the middle of the softest bed she'd ever encountered, the damp fetid dungeon leagues away.

          "Belle, you did it!" she exclaimed, nearly giddy with excitement.

          "And just where the hell are we?" Marcus grumbled at his wife.

          Rumpelstiltskin took a deep breath, comforted by the magic slowly returning to his wiry frame. But Belle was a flurry of motion. "Hurry, Marcus, help me with him," she said, moving through the large chamber in search of the wash room. "Through here," she said, using magic to light the candles to illuminate the room. Sarah had already set to making a fire in the stone hearth in the bed chamber. She gave a command for cold water and the tub filled. She would have to remember to tell her betrothed how grateful she was that he lived in a magical fortress which was more than willing to do her bidding.

          A hiss escaped her lips as she dropped into the sunken marble tub and the cold water closed over her hips. She ignored her discomfort and reached for Rumpelstiltskin as Marcus helped lower him into the tub. "Milady, are you sure this is a good idea?"

          "He's delirious and burning with fever, Marcus. This will help lower it," she said confidently, pulling Rumpelstiltskin against her and holding him tightly as he struggled to be free of the icy water. "I should have squashed that blasted fairy," she growled furiously, narrowly avoiding his flailing right arm.

          "Why would the king do this?" Marcus asked, sitting down at the edge of the pool should she need his assistance.

          Belle sighed and rested on the bench seat which protruded from the side of the tub, propping her chin on Rumpelstiltskin's bare shoulder, soaking up the heat from his body in an effort to stay warm. She set about bathing her love, her touch soothing as she scrubbed away the blood and filth from the dungeon which clung to his gold-flecked flesh. His back was healing, the wounds nearly closed, and she took extra care with them, making sure they were cleansed to promote further healing. She hoped he wouldn't be too upset over the loss of his pants, because they were thoroughly ruined after being in the bath. But as much as she loved him and wanted him with a burning passion which seared her very blood, she couldn't bring herself to sit in a bath with him without a stitch between them … not yet. She pondered her friend's question while she went about tending to Rumpelstiltskin, the thought of her father bringing her nothing but pain.

          "Clearly, he's lost his sodding mind," she stated dryly. "I tried so hard to make him see I wanted to be with Rumpel, and he turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to my wishes, my happiness. He's become obsessed with a way to break the contract, caring for nothing but saving me. Why can't he see I don't want to be saved?" she asked quietly, her arms tightening about the imp's shoulders as she pressed a tender kiss to his temple. "Did you see the horror on his face when he saw me use magic? He will probably blame Rumpel for that as well."

          "I am truly sorry for your grief, milady. If there is anything we might do for you —"

          Belle reached over and patted his knee, a sad smile upon her rosebud mouth. "Thank you, Marcus." She suppressed a violent shiver as Sarah came into the room.

          "Out of the tub, Belle. Your lips are turning blue!" she scolded, smacking her husband on the shoulder. "And what's wrong with you, eh, letting her stay in a tub of frigid water? She's going to die of pneumonia, you great lummox!"

          "Belle …" Rumpelstiltskin moaned her name as Marcus grabbed one arm and Belle the other and hefted him out of the tub.

          "Hush, darling, I'm here. I'll not leave you," she crooned as she rubbed a towel over his wet hair. She draped another about his hips before vanishing his wet leathers. Marcus pulled Rumpelstiltskin's arm around his neck and supported his slight weight back into the bedroom and onto the soft mattress. Belle moved to follow, but Sarah grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

          "And just where d'you think you're going in that sodden dress?" she asked, a wry smirk on her full lips.

          Belle cocked her head to the side and grinned. "I suppose I can't very well take care of him like this, can I? But Sarah, we didn't bring anything with us."

          "I don't suppose I could convince you to take a  _hot_  bath?"

          "No," Belle replied, shaking her head. "I don't want to leave him alone that long."

          Sarah nodded and had Belle turn so she could start on the buttons at the back of her gown. "Let's get you out of this and we'll see if the imp has anything for you to wear until I can clean and dry your gown."

          "I need to go up to his laboratory and see if there is a cordial to help rid him of the poison my father gave him. I know he's immortal, but I can't bear to see him in pain," she said, tears welling in her eyes once again. She brushed at them angrily, wondering over what had happened to the man her father had been long ago.

          Sarah left her there with a towel to dry herself and returned moments later with a nightshirt the color of sapphires. Belle smiled as the silk slid over her chilled flesh, imagining the shirt on her beloved. She pulled the collar close to her nose and inhaled, his scent clinging to the fabric and bringing her comfort. "There, at least all the right parts are covered up," Sarah teased.

          Belle chuckled softly, all she could manage as tired as she was. "Will you stay with him while I go to the tower? I shouldn't be long." She felt odd as she left the bedchamber and moved swiftly down the long corridor to the winding staircase which led up to his tower laboratory. She wasn't used to wearing so little, nor roaming about in such a state of undress, the hem of the nightshirt ending just above her knees.

          If she hadn't been so set on her task, she would have wanted nothing more than to explore the castle she would now call home. She was finally in the Dark Castle and the thought brought her a small measure of peace, banishing some of the turmoil roaring deafeningly in her heart. The door to his laboratory creaked as she pushed it open and stepped inside. A potion bubbled away on a low magical fire with blue flames, cool to the touch when she brought her hand close to it. He hadn't expected to be away for so long, surely. She explored the cabinets, searching through vials of potions, each labeled in his looping scrawl until she found one which might help him. A restorative draught she recognized from the spell book she'd used weeks ago.

          "How is he?" she asked, rushing back into the room, the vial of potion clasped tightly in her hand.

          "There's been no change, Belle. His fever isn't as high as when we arrived, but it hasn't lowered any more since his bath," Sarah said, replacing the cool cloth on his brow. She moved away, so Belle could sit next to him.

          "Rumpel?" she asked, softly stroking his weathered cheek. "Darling, can you hear me?" She brushed his damp locks away from his brow, her fingertips trailing gently along the side of his face.

          She was encouraged when he cracked his eyes open and murmured her name. "Belle ..."

          She un-stoppered the vial in her hand and held it to his lips, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, lifting him up so he wouldn't choke as he drank the contents of the bottle. He coughed and tried to push her hand away, but she merely moved it out of his reach and then tried again until he'd drunk it all. "There now, all done, love," she crooned, smoothing the blanket back over his chest.

          "Is there anything we can do for you, Belle?" Sarah asked, rubbing her friend's shoulder. "I could try to find the kitchens and make tea if you like."

          "Tea would be lovely, Sarah, thank you," Belle said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Explore the castle at your whim, but stay away from Rumpel's tower. Neither of you need to go in there for any reason … for your own safety, mind you."

          Belle looked over her shoulder and smiled at Marcus, hoping he realized how much she cared for him and his wife. Marcus bowed to her and twined his fingers with Sarah's as he led her from the room, leaving Belle alone with Rumpelstiltskin, their exit marked only by the faint click of the latch on the double doors. She breathed a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing away the headache forming behind her eyes.

          "All magic comes with a price," she said aloud to the still silence of the room. Considering the amount of magic she'd used that evening, she would be thankful if it was only a headache she had to contend with. She soaked the cloth in the basin of cool water on the bedside table and wrung it out before laying it across his brow once more.

          As she waited for him to wake, she used the time to study his features without the offending blindfold, her smile widening as she took in his strong features, hawk-like nose and thin lips. He was the most feared man in all the realms, but to her, he was her sweet imp. The love she felt for him staggered her, her heart nigh to bursting with it.

          "You need to wake, darling. I can't do this without you. I have to tell you so many things," she said softly, feeling guilty she hadn't shared her secret with him before he'd been hurt. "I need to tell you about my magic. I hope you will understand why I kept it a secret. And I need to tell you again how very much I love you," she breathed, lifting his hand to her lips and brushing a kiss to his knuckles.

          Belle held it in her lap, twining her fingers with his as she laid her other hand over his heart on his bare chest, unmindful of how it glowed gold with her magic. She wept for what she'd lost, but also for what she'd gained. She'd left her childhood behind in the midst of a conspiracy and betrayal, but she'd attained her heart's desire. She was home, there in the Dark Castle with her beloved. For months she'd dreamed of being there with him without that infernal contract between them like a shield. There would be nothing between them any longer, no contract, no blindfolds and no meddling father to keep him at arm's length. Rumpelstiltskin was hers and she refused to let anything come between them again. She just hoped he wouldn't be too angry with her for withholding the knowledge of her magic from him.

          She dried her eyes, brushing away her tears before reaching up to rinse the cloth again and return it to his brow. A startled gasp fell from her lips and her hand froze in midair, her cerulean eyes meeting those of amber. Her betrothed was awake, his gaze boring into hers, his face a blank slate as he stared at her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am about the delay. Monday night I was in the ER with a pancreatitis flare-up. Ugh! It was awful. I was in the ICU for two days. I just got home about an hour ago. Thankfully, this chapter was all ready to post. Love to all of you who’ve been waiting so patiently for this update. I promise to have another out to you bright and early in the morning. *hugs*


	16. Chapter 16

 

          Rumpelstiltskin drew in a deep breath, the first easy breath he'd been able to take since he'd drunk that accursed tea the king had served them. That vicious little paragon of virtue with wings had poisoned him not only with fairy dust, but also with belladonna, white snakeroot and baneberry. She'd specifically designed that concoction to incapacitate him for a day at least, more if he had consumed more than half a cup of that tea. But she could have killed his Belle if she hadn't spelled it to be ineffective against anyone other than him. And she'd made sure to do her fair share of gloating with the king over his sorry predicament.

          He'd been beside himself with worry over the effect it’d had on his Belle. She had been nearly as green as him when Marcus had carried her from the room, screaming for her imp the entire way. Her voice, terror evident in the tone, had been the last thing he'd remembered before waking in the dungeon, trussed up like a Christmas goose and hanging from the ceiling in naught but his pants. He would have to invent a special punishment for Maurice for such a vile offense. And then to add salt to his wounds, the bastard had had him lashed.

          The wily sorcerer cracked his eyes open as he felt the fire course through his veins once more. It felt as though his blood were boiling as it trekked through his body, only the touch of a smooth delicate hand there to soothe him as it came to rest upon his chest. His Belle. Dear Gods! He was actually gazing upon his sweet girl, and there was nothing there to impede his vision. But it took a second to register in his fever-addled mind as a new sensation burst forth in his chest. Pure light - blinding and brilliant - washed over him, soothing his aches and chasing away his pain. He glanced down at the hand resting over his heart, his amber eyes widening in disbelief at the golden light emanating from her hand. The same hand which had touched him a countless number of times as she’d cupped his cheek or caressed his nape in tenderness was now dispelling the poison incapacitating him.

          The fog began to recede from his mind and he took in his surroundings, the words she'd spoken to him in the dungeon, asking him to guide them home, now making perfect sense. How could he not have sensed the magic within her? And from what he was witnessing, it was more powerful than he could have realized. He felt more alive than he could ever remember feeling, even as a child, as the warmth spread through him from her fingertips. He was the Dark One. He prided himself on being able to sense magic and know whether or not the wielder could match him. For her to hide such power from him was incomprehensible.

          The breath hitched in his throat as her cerulean eyes met his, a startled gasp falling from his lips. How long had he yearned for the day when he could gaze upon her with nothing standing in their way? No blindfold, no servants or guards, and her wretched father nowhere in sight. "Belle…" he breathed raspily, his throat still a bit raw from the fiery torture of the poison he'd ingested. His hand closed around her outstretched hand in a firm grip, pulling her forward into his arms and holding her tightly against his chest.

          Rumpelstiltskin, the master of words, the spinner of deals, couldn't find the first word to tell her of the conflicting emotions roiling within him, simply content to hold her. "The contract …"

          "Broken," she whispered in relief as she pressed her brow to his, the heat of his fever gone. "Broken by my father when he conspired to keep you from me. I belong to you now, my love," she said, smiling tremulously.

          He cradled her face in his hands and studied her features, trying to memorize every detail. "So beautiful, my Belle." Even as his lips met hers, he didn't close his eyes, afraid if he did, she would disappear like a wisp of smoke, merely a dream. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamed of her in such a way. "Mine," he said, breathing a sigh of relief against her lips.

          "Yours," she agreed. She sat back as far as his arms would allow her to retreat and smiled down at him. "How do you feel? I was so worried."

          He arched a brow at her in askance. "Would you care to tell me how we're at the Dark Castle, dearest? I must admit I'm having difficulty deciphering dream from reality."

          Belle drew in a shuddering breath and bit down on her lip, worrying it anxiously as a frown knit her brow. "What do you remember?" she asked, sitting up as his hand raked through his messy curls.

          "I remember Marcus taking you away. Are you well? Did the poison harm you?" he asked, sitting up with her on the bed, the coverlet dropping into his lap. He looked down quickly, taking in the state of his undress. "And just where the hell are my pants, Belle?!" he bellowed, a blush rising to tint his golden flecked skin as he clutched the coverlet closer to him.

          "I'm fine," Belle choked out around a giggle, unable to force it down, the sound resonating throughout the large chamber. The laughter died a rapid death in her throat as he scowled at her. "I'm sorry, darling, really I am. I promise I'm not laughing at you," she assured him.

          A wicked grin curled his thin lips as his gaze narrowed on her. She shrieked and slapped a hand over her eyes as he threw the coverlet back and swung his legs over the bed, crossing the room to his wardrobe to fetch a pair of soft cotton pants, drawing them on over his toned legs and tying the drawstring. "You can look now, dearie," she said, smirking at her as he climbed back onto the bed with her.

          "You're simply rotten, Rumpelstiltskin. You know that, right?" she asked, collapsing back against the mountain of pillows heaped against the headboard of the massive four poster.

          He laid down beside her on his left side and smiled lazily. "Tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen if I recall correctly. Knowing the truth, you still wanted the beast," he said with a dramatic sigh.

          Tears glistened in her eyes and a sob rushed past her lips. "Rumpel …" she gasped out, the stress of the evening's events more than she could cope with in the face of his levity.

          His arms came around her and she pressed her tear-soaked face against his bare chest. "No, sweetheart, don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you," he said against her crown of chestnut locks, sorry now for teasing her and causing her even more distress.

          "I-I could have l-lost you," she whispered brokenly, her sobs growing louder in the quiet chamber. "I-I'll never forgive m-my father for what h-he tried to do."

          He held her in his comforting embrace, his hands traveling over her back in soothing circles as he tried to calm her. "I'm immortal, my Belle. I will not leave you no matter what might have happened. There is only one thing which can kill me; we've discussed this," he stated, as if that would make her feel better. The dagger was a sore subject between them, one she stubbornly refused to speak of. She didn't like to think there was a way for her beloved to be controlled by another and wished to bury it far beneath the castle at the first opportunity, bound in so many layers of magic it would never be found by another living soul.

          "When I found you," she murmured when her sobs had faded away into weak hiccoughs. "I don't think I've ever been that angry before … or terrified. To poison you was horrible enough, Rumpel, but to have you bound without your magic and then lashed?"

          "Shh, love, it's over. I will deal with your father," he said, his tone a menacing whisper. The rage he felt for the monarch simmered just below the surface of his skin. There was surely a special place in hell for Maurice for betraying his daughter as he had, just as Rumpelstiltskin felt he belonged there right beside him, a fit punishment for the atrocities he'd committed over the centuries. He prayed he'd be able to find redemption with Belle's help. He would deal with the king in due time. It wouldn't do to dwell on his anger when there were still too many questions to be answered and Belle did not need to see him at the peak of his fury.

          Belle leaned back to meet his gaze. "Together."

          "If you wish it."

          "They hurt you," she said, her lower lip trembling.

          He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingertips caressing the smooth skin of her face. He doubted he would ever tire of looking upon her beauty, her light which seemed to permeate his very soul. "And you saved me," he said, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. "Would you care to tell me how you accomplished such a feat? How you managed to bring us here and heal me?"

          Belle cringed, averting her gaze. She knew she was being silly for not wanting to talk about it, but for so long, Sarah had been the only person she’d trusted with her secret. Her tongue threatened to stick to the roof of her mouth and she could feel the panic welling in her.

          Rumpelstiltskin's fingers caressed the soft curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lips as he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "Sweetheart, don't be afraid to confide in me. I will not judge you or scorn you." He dipped his head and dropped a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You have never judged me for my past deeds, my Belle. Instead you forgave me and brought me peace, brought me into the light. Do you really think I would do any less for you?"

          "No, of course, not," she admitted truthfully. He had changed so much since they'd begun their courtship. There was still darkness within him for those he dealt with, but there was a softness to his rough edges he was reserved for her. With her, he was more man than Dark One, and she was grateful for it. She knew he would not judge her because of the depth of his love for her, of that she was certain.

          "Then tell me. Tell me what transpired in the dungeon," he said, his tone soft and coaxing her to trust him.

          "I lost control of my magic, Rumpel. That hasn't happened since I learned to harness it when I was twelve years old. My fear for you took over. I never felt anything like it before."

          "Didn't your mentor ever teach you about emotion? Your emotions fuel your magic and the more intense the emotions, the more power you have at your fingertips," he questioned.

          She sat up beside him and leaned back against the headboard, staring down at him in confusion. "Rumpel, I never had a mentor. What I've learned, I've learned on my own. Magic wielders are frowned upon in my kingdom. Could you just imagine me going to my father with that little bit of information? He would have locked me away in the northwest tower."

          He stared at her incredulously. "How have you refrained from harming yourself or others?"

          Belle shrugged, guilt rising in her breast. "I didn't, not at first. There were a fair few accidents." She toyed with a button on her borrowed shirt. "Are you very angry with me for keeping this from you?"

          He flopped over onto his back and rested his head against her lap. "No, darling, not at all. You would have had to tell me eventually. What concerns me is how I wasn't able to sense it in you. I just can't understand how you were able to keep this from me."

          She smoothed her fingertips over the creases in his brow and smiled. "We'll figure it out, I'm sure. Perhaps I'm just not powerful enough for you to sense it."

          "Somehow, I doubt that. You were able to transport the two of us here, and that isn't an easy task for someone with no training."

          "Sarah and Marcus are here as well," she blurted out nervously, catching her lip between her teeth. No use hiding that little bit of information from him when he'd be seeing them for himself soon enough.

          "You teleported with  _three_  passengers?!"

          Belle nodded. "I know I didn't ask you beforehand, Rumpel, but they couldn't stay in Avonlea after helping us. My father would have punished them, branded them traitors to the crown."

          And it hadn’t been the first time the pair had come to his aid. He'd be the lowest form of cad if he didn't welcome them into his home and place them under his protection. "I suppose they could make a home in the caretaker's cottage."

          She squealed with delight and leaned forward, peppering his face with kisses. "Oh, Rum, thank you, darling!" Her smile was blinding as she sat back, carding her fingers through his hair.

          He cast her a half-moon grin. He vowed to himself to continue to please her if it invoked such a response in her. "Now, stop stalling and tell me what happened," he said, settling back comfortably against her.

          "There's nothing to tell really. I told my father goodbye and snapped Lira's wand in two before bringing us here. By then, you were burning with fever, so I had Marcus help me get you into a cold bath to bring it down. Sorry about your pants, by the way," she said with a cheeky grin. "I'm just glad your fever broke. It seems to have left no ill effects. I've never seen such a miraculous recovery."

          "You really don't know?"

          "Know what?" she asked, a puzzled frown knitting her brow.

          "Belle, darling,  _you_  healed me," he said, gazing up at her as though she were a goddess sent from the vast heavens to heal not just his body, but his heart and his soul. He wanted to cherish and protect her for the entirety of his existence, to love her and bring her the happiness she deserved.

          "But I didn't, Rumpel. I don't know how to use my magic to heal," she protested.

          He lifted her hand from where it rested against his bare chest and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. "You did, sweetheart. I could feel your magic coursing through me, chasing the poison out. You're more powerful than you know if you were able to heal me without any conscious thought as to what you were doing."

          "But —"

          "What were you thinking? What was going through your mind before I woke up?"

          Belle tilted her head to the right as she forced herself to remember the myriad feelings and thoughts which had been whirling through her mind in her worry over him. "I … ah … I was just thinking of how much I love you and how I couldn't bear it if I were to lose you." She cupped his face in her hands, so thankful she was able to look down into his warm amber eyes and see for herself the love shining there just for her. "I do love you, Rumpel."

          "I love you, my Belle. More than I ever thought possible," he said, rearranging them against the pillows so she was once again pressed to his side. "You're not alone anymore, sweetheart. I will help you learn to control your power."

          She nuzzled her face against his chest, yawning widely. Her eyes closed, the pressure from her headache refusing to let her continue to hold them open. "I don't even know why I have magic. It's not as if I could ask my father."

          "He probably doesn't even know. I will contact Winter. There's a strong possibility she knows more than she's told me previously," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. His hand smoothed over her side until it came to rest on her hip, pulling her flush with his body. How many nights had he dreamed of having her there in his bed, sharing her warmth and letting her envelop him in her love? He frowned. "You know Maurice will come for you."

          "What can he do? He conspired to keep you a prisoner for gods only know how long with the intention of keeping us apart. He broke the contract forfeiting his end of the agreement. I am yours now as a result of his own machinations. A circumstance which couldn't make me happier. And even without the contract, I accepted your proposal of my own free will." She pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart, her lips stretching into a smile he could feel against his skin.

          "Mine," he murmured huskily, a pleasant shiver making its way up his spine. "I'll not let him take you from me, my Belle. I promise."

          "I tried to make him understand how much I truly want to be your wife, that I was marrying you for love and not for the sake of that infernal contract," she whispered sleepily. "I regret he's a stubborn fool, but I can't say I'm sorry to be here with you now despite the circumstances which brought us here."

          A soft knock sounded on the door preventing him from answering. He opened it with a lazy flick of his wrist, unwilling to remove his arms from his girl. Sarah poked her head around the door, a heavily laden tray in her hands. She smiled in relief as she set the tray down on the bedside table.

          "You look better, Imp," she said warmly. "I'm glad. Belle was nearly beside herself with worry." She glanced down at the coverlet he'd pulled over himself and the girl now asleep in his arms. "You'd better have pants on under that blanket. We don't need a passel of wee ones running about this mausoleum before we have a proper wedding."

          "We'll be seeing to that matter immediately, Minx. Worry not," he assured her, easing away from Belle and taking the cup of tea Sarah offered.

          "Are you hungry? I made something light, not knowing how much Belle would be able to tolerate after her bout with nausea. Stupid fairy," she grumbled, gesturing to the simple broth and toast on the tray. "Fabulous kitchen, by the way. Although there was some questionable fruit in your food locker."

          "Questionable fruit?" he asked, not quite up to sampling the food she'd brought. "My food locker is enchanted as is the rest of the castle. There should be nothing questionable in there. Perhaps you're just not familiar with the types of food you found."

          Sarah shrugged, leaning a shoulder against the bed post and crossing her arms over her chest.

          "Thank you, Sarah," he said, uncomfortable with having to express his gratitude. When was the last time he'd said those words to anyone aside from his Belle?

          Sarah waved off his thanks and offered him a cheeky grin. "You ok with Marcus and I staying here?"

          "Yes, dearie, surprisingly I am. Belle will benefit from having you here."

          "And you?"

          "What are you fishing for, Minx? You want to hear I don't mind having you around, that I more than just tolerate you for Belle's sake?" he asked grumpily as he set the tea cup on the tray.

          Sarah turned on her heel, a satisfied smile on her plump lips, calling over her shoulder, "Well, it's a start."

          Rumpelstiltskin smirked after her retreating form, sliding himself down in the bed to wrap himself around Belle once again, pulling her flush with his body and soaking up her warmth. His wards were in place and he was slowly regaining his strength. He would be able to rest, knowing she was safe and protected from those who sought to do them harm.

          It wouldn't be easy for her to be known as the Dark One's consort, but as long as she was happy, he could find solace in that. He'd never cared for what others thought of him, but he didn't want his reputation to sully her good name. He didn't want her to suffer for it. Belle's hand slipped up around his nape and twined in his hair, her fingers coiled within the strands, and he couldn't fight the contented smile which spread across his lips. She was home.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: This chapter makes me smile. I hope you enjoyed it, too! Thank you to everyone for all the lovely reviews and get well wishes. I’m MUCH improved and happy to be home and back at the computer :D *hugs*


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains smut. It was written to stand alone so if it's not your thing, please skip to the next. This is your only warning. So, without further delay …

          A slow appreciative smile spread over the Dark One’s thin lips as the first rays of dawn streaked across the horizon. Belle's slender arms were curled about his head where she had it pressed securely to her bosom and he couldn't remember being more comfortable in his long existence. She grumbled in her sleep, the leg she had thrown about his waist tightening in protest of his movement. His Belle was the only female in the realm who would find his bed welcome. His grin grew wider as he dropped a light kiss in the valley between her breasts, exposed by the deep neckline of his nightshirt swathing her petite frame. Yes, he could most assuredly get used to waking with her wrapped around him such as she was.

          She was his … finally … in his home, his bed and his heart. There was just a simple matter of making it official … with all haste. A shiver of pleasure danced down his spine as she stirred against him, pressing her hips more snugly against him. His warm amber eyes rose to meet her sleep-heavy blue ones as he felt her stiffen in his arms. As awareness crept into her, a heated blush stole into her cheeks, but she didn't release her grip on him.

          "Oh," she breathed, melting against him. "Good morning."

          He trailed his fingertips along her bare leg from knee to hip and curled it over the smooth curve of her arse, pulling her flush with him and drawing a startled gasp from her rosebud lips. "Yes, dearest, I do believe it is," he said with a throaty chuckle.

          Belle slipped her hands to his nape, her thumbs brushing against the sensitive flesh below his ears and brought his head down to hers, molding her lips gently to his. She reveled in the fact she could kiss him, touch him at her leisure with no one to stop her or tell her it was wrong. Their betrothal was just as binding as their marriage would be after all, with one small difference from many others scattered throughout the realm … true love. And if the butterflies beating away at the lining of her stomach - which felt like small baby dragons - were any indication, he'd more than awakened her desire for him. She wasn't as innocent as she would lead others to believe, not as well read as she was. She knew what the low thrum of heat spiraling throughout her body meant. She just didn't know how far her courage would extend and let her experience the new sensations before it deserted her.

          A low rumble of pleasure reverberated in his chest as her tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, boldly seeking entry. He swallowed down the needy whimper which spilled from her lips as her tongue slid sinuously along his. She explored the inner recesses of his mouth, seeking out the spots she knew brought him pleasure. His hips bucked involuntarily against her, nipping lightly at his bottom lip as he drew back with a gasp of horror.

          "Oh, Belle, I'm sorry. I didn't mean …" he stammered, trying unsuccessfully to disentangle her limbs from his.

          "Why are you apologizing?" she asked, clearly puzzled as she fought to catch her breath and still her racing heart. "You did nothing wrong, Rumpel." To prove her point, she pressed her heel into the small of his back and pulled him closer to her heat.

          His eyes closed, and he bit his lip to stifle the moan which rose in his throat as her warmth pressed against his arousal, the wet heat searing him through the thin cotton of his breeches. "Belle, please, love. I don't want to frighten you," he said, brushing a stray curl behind her ear and pressing his brow to hers.

          "I'm not frightened of your passion, darling … much," she admitted, groaning when he rolled off her to lie on his back. She turned onto her side and reached for him, only to have him leave the bed completely. "Rumpelstiltskin!"

          "Belle, you are a maiden. You deserve patience and care and tenderness not," he waved a hand, gesturing his beastly form, "…this! Raw uncontrollable lust first thing in the blasted morning."

          Belle heaved a frustrated sigh and tossed a pillow at him which harmlessly glanced off his chest. "And how am I supposed to know what that is if you won't touch me? In a matter of days, you will be my husband and we will be in this bed consummating our marriage … gods willing … and I think I should be allowed to become acquainted with your body if it is my desire!" She scooted out of the bed and came to stand before him defiantly. She poked him in the center of his chest with a sharp fingernail. "You don't get to make that decision for me."

          "Belle …"

          "No," she said, gentling her tone. "You're always so careful with me, Rumpel, always so cautious with how you touch me. I want you, you stubborn man. Can't you see that? I  _want_  you." The fight went out of him and his shoulders slumped in defeat as he drew her into the circle of his arms. "I love you and it should be my right to show you. We don't have to … um … well ..."

          He buried his face in her hair and groaned. "I need a cold dip in the lake."

          "It's November, darling, you'll freeze," she said, laughing softly against his chest.

          "That's the bloody idea, dear heart," he replied, smoothing his hand over her back.

          "You would stop if I asked it of you, wouldn't you?" she asked, arching a curious brow.

          His brows drew together in a furious scowl. "I would never take you against your will, Belle. I may be a monster, but I am no defiler of women," he said in his defense.

          Belle beamed up at him. "Good, come with me," she said, taking his hand in hers and dragging him off in the direction of the bathing chamber which adjoined his room.

          "What are you about?"

          With a flick of her wrist she filled the sunken marble tub with hot water and dumped in a liberal amount of lilac bath salts, pleased when they foamed up into a cascade of bubbles. " _We_  are taking a bath … _together_."

          "This is such a bad idea," he grumbled, slapping a hand over his eyes as she reached for the row of buttons along the front of her nightshirt. "Belle …”

          "Go on and get in," she urged. "I promise I won't look if that will make you more comfortable."

          "Nothing about this makes me comfortable. We shouldn't."

          "Of course, we should. Really, Rumpel, would you rather a nervous bride or one who can relax and enjoy her wedding night? In my heart, we are already married, so what does it matter?" she asked, nibbling nervously at her lower lip. Heat spread over her chest and up her neck to settle in the apples of her cheeks as she dropped the silk nightshirt at his feet and stepped into the warm water. She would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous - as her trembling limbs attested - but she wasn't going to let her fear of the unknown deter her. For too long, she'd let her father dictate her every action, keeping her a virtual prisoner in her own home because of his fear of the Dark One. She would let it rule her no longer.

          She gave him her back and listened for the slightest sound as he stood at the edge of the tub debating the wisdom of joining her. "Aren't you coming?" she asked, a smile in her voice as she waited. Finally, he grunted and dropped his breeches, hurrying into the tub before she could turn around and see him in all his glory.

          With a flourish of his hand he muted the lighting, leaving only two of the dozen or so candelabra lit about the room. He sat on the ledge which protruded along the side and ducked his head, his hair falling over his eyes. "Come here to me, dearest," he said, his voice barely more than a strained whisper. "If it's a bath you want, a bath you shall have." He turned her in his arms and ducked her head quickly beneath the surface of the water before smoothing a soft lavender soap into the thick strands, his nails scraping lightly against her scalp.

          While he rinsed her hair, she toyed with the vials set along the edge of the tub, sniffing each one in turn until she found one she knew he preferred, a subtle scent of sandalwood and cedar. "Do you make these yourself or do you buy them at market?" she asked, ignoring the thudding of her heart as his soapy hands smoothed over her shoulders.

          Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth together as he concentrated on his task. He was exerting all of his control as his hands smoothed over her heated flesh made slippery by the soapy substance coating his hands. His cock twitched where it pressed into the soft flesh of her lower back. "Um … that one I bought at Wimborne, but this one I'm using on you … I made. It was to be a gift for you when I was able to bring you home to the Dark Castle." He squinched his eyes tightly shut and tossed the soapy cloth down into the water. "Belle, I can't do this."

          Startled, she turned and placed her hands on his shoulders, her wide blue eyes searching his face. "Yes, you can, my love." She brushed her lips to his and carded her fingers through his damp hair, reveling in the texture of the silky strands.

          "I don't want to hurt you, my Belle. I never was very good at this and –“

          "I'm not her, Rumpelstiltskin. I'm not Milah," she hissed vehemently, brushing away angry tears which pooled in her eyes. "She didn't deserve your love and she certainly didn't deserve to have you as her husband. And don't even get me started on that foul traitorous witch you trained in the dark arts. I am not them."

          He crushed her to his chest, his brow resting against her shoulder. The distance of difference between his former paramours and his true love was wider than the vast oceans, but there was still that kernel of fear which resided within him whispering he wasn't good enough, that he would disappoint her and hurt her. Belle used his distraction to lather her hands with the sandalwood and cedar scented soap and soothe it over his tense muscles, her fingertips gently easing away the strain.

          "I'll stop whenever you want, dear heart," he said, his eyes steely with determination. "If I do something you don't like …"

          "I'll tell you," she vowed.

          "Gods, Belle! Don't let me hurt you."

          "You won't." She knew in her heart he wasn't capable of hurting her despite what he thought to the contrary. She needed this new level of intimacy between them, needed to  _show_  him how much she desired him. He was already well aware of how much she loved him; now it was time to let him learn of her desire.

          He leaned back against the wall of the tub, the cool marble caressing his heated flesh, his hands lifting her to straddle his knees as his fingertips trailed lightly along the outsides of her thighs. Her smile was blinding as she set to work bathing his chest, feeling the stress leave him as he began to relax and enjoy her touch. He was giving her free rein to touch him, explore him at her leisure as she wished, and it made her feel powerful. He could feel her magic humming beneath her skin, calling out to him and it took a concerted effort to remain still beneath her questing hands.

          Belle leaned forward and nipped lightly at his bottom lip, keenly aware of the control he was exerting for her. He let her take it as far as she wished, content to let her touch him and he couldn’t hold back the moan which clawed its way out of his throat when her tongue slipped into his mouth to duel with his. Heat unfurled in her belly like a great beacon of light, sending its rays spreading throughout her and making her weak with desire. A great thirst had been awakened in her and only his touch could quench it. Her hands splayed over his chest and she flicked her fingertips over his flat nipples, drawing a gasp from his parted lips.

          "Did I hurt you?" she asked, relieved when he shook his head. Encouraged, she did it again, this time using her nails. She smiled slyly and moaned as he grasped her hips and pulled her flush with his cock. His nails dug into her hips in the most pleasant way and she wiggled against him, the friction sending spirals of pleasure throughout her quivering limbs.

          He watched her closely for any sign she wanted him to stop and saw only wonder on her beautiful face, her lovely cerulean eyes dilated with desire, her lips swollen from his kisses and her breath coming in short little pants. She truly did want him, the evidence written clearly on her face, and he couldn't stop himself from drawing her forward and burying his lips in the crook of her neck. His tongue rasped hotly against the rapid pulse which rested beneath her jaw, and he whimpered as she ground her heat over his turgid cock, the head brushing against her tight bundle of nerves with the movement.

          "Oh, Rumpel," she cried out, holding tightly to his shoulders as she bucked her hips against him once more. His hands moved up along her sides and brushed gently at the undersides of her breasts before cupping their weight firmly in his hands as he suckled at the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. He wrapped one arm about her waist and showed her how to move against him without letting him slide into her slippery heat and take her maidenhead, his cock trapped between them still able to give her pleasure. The torturously slow pace he set for them set her teeth on edge, overwhelmed as she was by the unfamiliar sensations coursing through her. "Too much," she gasped.

          He stilled instantly. "Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?" he asked, strain evident in his voice. "Tell me to stop and I will."

          "No!" she breathed out in a husky whisper. "I need … I need … something!"

          He tightened his arm about her waist and began to move her against him once more, his lips trailing over her collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat. He could feel her throb against his cock, and he drew her nipple into his hot mouth as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. Belle felt as if she were engulfed in tickling flames of heat which shot straight from her breasts to her core, and she ground her hips with renewed vigor against him.

          He was so close, engorged near to bursting as she rode him, and he didn't know if he would be able to last much longer, never having expected such pleasure when he'd opened his eyes a mere hour ago. "Let go, darling, let go. Don't fight it," he breathed against her throat, quickening his pace as he felt her come apart around him. With a guttural growl he emptied himself against her belly, panting heavily as he took her lips for another kiss and holding her tightly to his chest.

          He pressed a kiss to her damp temple and smoothed his hand over her hair, as her breathing slowly returned to normal. "Rumpel?"

          She sounded so serious, a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, his fears reasserting themselves. "Hmm?" What if he had hurt her or dissatisfied her or …

          "Can we bathe together more often?" she asked, beaming up at him with a contented smile.

          And impish giggle floated past his lips as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder. "Most assuredly, dearest. As often as you'd like."

          Belle nuzzled her nose into his neck and yawned. She couldn't remember ever feeling such a pleasant lassitude overtake her before and she'd love nothing more than to curl up in their big bed and go back to sleep for several hours.

          "None of that now. We have much to do today," he said, setting her gently on the bench next to him and reaching for a fluffy towel to wrap around her as he vanished the water from the tub. She sat still while he wrapped another around her wet hair and then climbed out of the tub.

          "I'm going to need something to wear, because I doubt Sarah has had time to clean the gown I wore yesterday," she told him, toweling her hair dry and running a whalebone comb through her long tresses. When she turned around, her betrothed had already donned his garments, his usual black leather breeches and a dark blue silk shirt but with a long brown frock coat with gold clasps. He'd forgone the dragon hide for once which pleased her.

          He steered her towards a door at the far end of the chamber, one she hadn't noticed before in her brief inspection of the room. "This way, my Belle." He led her into the room and she realized it belonged to the lady of the castle, the other half of the master suite. It was decorated in creams and blues as his was decorated in crimson and gold. "This is yours," he said proudly, gesturing to the opulent furnishings.

          "When did you do this?" she asked, taking in her surroundings with awe-filled eyes.

          He waved a dismissive hand. "It's no matter. I just … ah … wanted you to have a space to call your own should you wish it," he admitted sheepishly. He didn't want to tell her that though he had hoped she'd wish to share his room, he didn't expect it.

          Belle chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip as she smoothed her hand over the lovely handmade quilt which adorned the bed. "As lovely as I find this room, I'm afraid I won't be sleeping here often," she grinned, a bright pink blush staining her cheeks. "I'd much rather sleep with my husband."

          He cradled her face in his elegant spinner's hands and kissed her softly. "I wanted you to have the choice. I would never force you. I want you to be happy with me, dearest."

          She sighed happily as she felt his arms wrap securely about her waist. "I already am."


	18. Chapter 18

 

          "Which one? The blue or the rose?" Belle asked, standing before him in her shift and warm woolen stockings as she held up two dresses from the overstuffed wardrobe for him to choose from. She chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip and shifted from foot to foot as she waited for him to make up his mind. Rumpelstiltskin was sprawled across the bed in the bedchamber he'd given her, his head propped on his hand as his gaze settled not on the gowns she’d presented for his perusal, but her scantily clad form. The heat in his warm amber eyes made her mind drift back to what they'd done a short time ago in the tub and a rosy blush rose to settle in her face.

          "The rose."

          "Really?" she asked, certain he would have chosen the blue. He'd commented enough on how much he loved the dress she had worn for her portrait.

          An impish giggle trickled from his lips. "It will go nicely with the blush you're sporting, my darling."

          "Pfft!" she scoffed and turned to return the blue gown to the wardrobe. She stepped into the rose-colored gown and drew the long sleeves over her arms, smiling as the velveteen fabric caressed her skin. "Help me?"

          He rose from the bed and took up her laces, weaving the cords through the eyelets and tugging gently so as not to lace her in too tight. "You're pleased with your new gowns? I will, of course, retrieve anything you wish from your home, Belle, but I did desire for you to have something new when you arrived," he said, grinning at her sheepishly.

          Belle turned as he tied off her laces and looped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. "They're perfect." She had gowns and stockings and underpinnings and shoes to match along with anything else she might desire. Everything he'd provided was of the highest quality and much warmer than anything she'd worn at home, something she would find herself thankful for in the cooler mountain climate. "I promise I don't need anything from home," she assured him. "Except …"

          He looked at her expectantly. "Except? Anything, my Belle. What is it you desire from home?"

          "My books, the ones you gave me and my secretary. It has all my letters in it, Rumpel."

          With a flourish of his elegant hand, her belongings were stacked neatly on the antique writing desk beneath the window. "Anything else?" he asked, his lips spread in a wide smile to match her own. He could never remember smiling so much before she'd come into his life.

          She nuzzled his neck and relaxed into his embrace with a sigh of contentment. "No, darling. I have everything I need. I simply didn't want to leave those things behind because they were gifts from you, and … and your letters are irreplaceable."

          He dropped a kiss to her crown and stepped back, offering his brocade covered arm to escort her below stairs. "What would you like to do first, my Belle? I could show you the castle or the garden. Or if you'd prefer, we could perhaps have breakfast?"

          "I thought you were going to send a message to your enchantress friend this morning?" she asked, pulling the door of her suite closed behind them as they started off down the corridor.

          He waved a hand dismissively. "Not to worry, dearest. I have a direct link to Winter should I ever decide to use it, which isn't often," he whispered in an aside. "We can speak with her without her having to journey here."

          The torches lit one by one as they moved down the corridor and she could feel the magic permeating the air. "The castle is enchanted, yes?"

          "You remembered," he said, glancing down proudly at her. "Yes, the torches will guide you where you need to go until you learn your way around."

          Belle took a deep breath, relieved the constant tightness in her abdomen that she'd lived with - for as long as she could remember - was absent. Since she'd freed the tight rein she'd held over her magic, she felt lighter … as if she'd been released from a long stay in prison. She had even more control now that the magics were free to course through her instead of being confined and underused. "I feel like I've been waiting forever to come here. And now it's as though I've truly come home."

          He pulled her to a stop before the large double doors which led into the Great Hall. He curled a lock of her unbound chestnut tresses around his index finger and urged her forward for a kiss, his lips gently brushing hers. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, Belle. You are so much more than I ever hoped for when I made that deal."

          Belle chuckled softly as he pulled her forward into the cavernous room. "I’ll admit, I didn't expect to find love at the end of this bargain," she said, slipping her arm around his waist as he led her about the room. "But I'm so glad I did."

          "Aye, sweetheart," he murmured, tucking her into his side.

          Belle started as a crash and a shriek echoed down the corridor which surely led to the kitchens. "That was Sarah," she said, tugging on his hand as she set off in the direction of the noise.

          "Sarah, love, I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. Come down from there!"

          Rumpelstiltskin sauntered into the kitchen and bit down on his lip to keep the manic giggle from burbling from his throat. Sarah was standing atop his kitchen table, her skirts in one hand and a broom clutched tightly in the other and her husband was trying to coax her down. It wasn't like the no nonsense woman to be frightened of anything and he couldn't comprehend what had sent her into such a panic.

          "Sarah!" Belle exclaimed at his side as she gaped at her dearest friend. She looked as though she were torn between laughter and horror.

          Rumpelstiltskin smirked and arched a brow at her. "You're scuffing my table with those pointy little heels, dearie." His nose twitched as he smelled the beginnings of his breakfast die a slow death. "And you're burning my bacon!"

          Sarah's scorching hazel gaze landed on him and she glared menacingly. "You should worry less about scuff marks on your table or going without your favorite breakfast meat and more about the bloody dragon hiding in the food pantry, Imp," she shrieked, panic clearly written on her face.

          "A dragon?" he asked dryly. "Have you ever seen a dragon? I assure you I have none hidden in the pantry or anywhere else in the castle, for that matter."

          Marcus tried tugging the broom from his wife's hand and earned a smack with it. He dodged her second attempt to brain him with it. "See, love, there are no dragons hiding in the pantry. Come down now," he crooned softly, his tone cajoling.

          Rumpelstiltskin vanished the burning pan from the stove and moved around the table to enter the pantry mumbling about over dramatic servants and delusions of grandeur. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the cupboard even without the aid of a candle and searched through the shadows for the source of the girl's panic. He could hear Belle's voice join that of Marcus as they continued to coax Sarah off the table. The twitch of a familiar tail had his eyes narrowing as he strode forward and apprehended the culprit.

          The ear-splitting shriek which met his sensitive ears as he stepped back into the kitchen assured him he'd found the source of the problem. "Dearie, please!" he bellowed.

          Sarah lost her footing on the table and tumbled into Marcus to land on his back. How the man didn't topple over with her hanging onto his back like that, Rumpelstiltskin would never know. Belle winced and covered her ears as she moved to stand beside her betrothed to get a closer look at the long-tailed lizard resting on his arm.

          "That's not a dragon," Belle stated simply.

          "Of course, not," the sorcerer scoffed. "This is Edgar. Even I wouldn't keep a dragon … baby or otherwise … in my home."

          Marcus groaned when Sarah's now shoeless foot wrapped around his waist and popped him sharply in the groin. "She doesn't like reptiles, milord," he gritted out through clenched teeth as he set his wife on her feet and dropped down onto the wooden bench next to the table.

          "How many times have I warned you to stay in the tower," the imp scolded. Edgar flicked his tongue out, bored with yet another scolding. "He likes the dark, dearie. He won't harm you."

          "We'll be having lizard stew if I find him in my kitchen again," she warned, picking up the chef's knife from the butcher block and waving it at the offensive creature.

          Belle went to the hearth and lifted the whistling kettle from the hook, bringing it to the counter where Sarah had already prepared a china teapot with leaves. "Why would you name a lizard Edgar?" she asked as she poured the water.

          "Because that's his name," Rumpelstiltskin said, as if it should be obvious.

          Sarah pulled out another pan and set it on the stove to heat as she went back into the pantry for another pound of bacon. "Are you saying that's an actual person you've transformed into … that!?" she asked in horror.

          A smirk curved the imp's thin lips as he shrugged noncommittally. "No one breaks deals with me, dearie."

          Sarah snorted and began arranging the thick cut strips of bacon in the pan. "Marcus, get the scones from the oven, would you. And what could he have done bad enough to be turned into a lizard?" she asked with a shudder of revulsion.

          Instead of answering, he poofed out of the room to return the rather large lizard to his terrarium in the north tower. Belle set a cup of tea before him on the table when he returned a moment later and answered Sarah's question as if he hadn't just magicked himself in and out of the room. "He promised to deliver a magic bean for quite a large sum of gold. He gambled the gold away and had no intention of delivering the bean … if he'd even had one to begin with."

          "But a lizard?" Sarah's brain seemed to be stuck in neutral, unable to move past the slimy reptile.

          A frown drew his brows together in a puzzled frown. "I didn't kill him," he said in explanation. "And he's got a decent life here in the castle. More than he deserves for trying to cheat me."

          Belle smiled at him over the rim of her teacup, her cerulean eyes sparkling. "You did this after we began corresponding, didn't you, Rumpel?"

          He sighed and sipped at his tea. "Yes, I suppose I did."

          Sarah placed a plate of bacon, eggs and blueberry scones in front of the two men before placing another next to Belle and then one for herself. "Don't look so startled, Imp. I always knew you weren't as bad as everyone said," she muttered absently as she slathered her scone with a generous pat of fresh butter.

          "Yeah, and how's that, dearie?"

          "Belle loves you, and she's an excellent judge of character. Besides, you put more trust in us," she said waving her butter knife between herself and Belle, "by letting us blindfold you than I bet you'd ever trusted anyone else. That couldn't have been easy for you."

          "Indeed not."

          Belle concentrated on her eggs for a moment before asking, "Have you never thought of changing him back?"

          "Why would I want to do that?" he asked, his nose crinkling as if the idea were absurd.

          "What if he had a family? Or a business or … surely someone has found his absence upsetting," Belle argued.

          "He was a thief, a wastrel and a swindler. I seriously doubt he's been missed."

          Belle wiped her mouth on her linen napkin and leveled him with a grin. "Then it appears you've done him a favor?"

          "How that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes on her and wondering at her reasoning.

          But it was Sarah who answered. "Think about it. He spent his life cheating good honest folks out of their hard-earned wages. If it hadn't been for you getting to him first, someone would have surely ended him for his nefarious behavior. Now he's got a home, he's cared for like a pampered pet and the very man he swindled is the one who caters to his every whim. He may be a slimy lizard, but he still came out on the better end of the deal."

          Rumpelstiltskin gaped at her, causing the girls to giggle at his stunned countenance. After Belle and Sarah had cleared the table and set the tap to running with hot water to clean the dishes, an enraged howl and a string of curses could be heard from a portly man who had been forcibly booted from the castle to make his way down the mountain to the village below.

 

*.*.*

 

          "He's really giving us the caretaker's cottage?" Sarah asked as she took the plate Belle had just washed and began to dry it with a cloth, her hazel eyes wide with astonishment.

          "You heard it from his own lips when he asked Marcus to go with him to open it up. He wants to be certain it's not in ill repair before he lets the two of you move in," Belle said, chuckling softly at her friend's wide-eyed disbelief. "And now you don't have to worry about Edgar in the food locker."

          "Filthy beast," Sarah snorted, setting the plate on a drying rack before accepting another. It was hard to believe how much all of their lives had changed in less than twenty-four hours, but she couldn't say she was disappointed in the least. She and Marcus had been given a home, one where she would still be with her dearest friend. They would still be able to share their lives with one another, watch each other's children grow and prosper.

          She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes on her friend, taking in the rosy blush which seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face. "Soooo ... How'd you sleep? Strange surroundings … all the stress you'd gone through … worried about your imp …" she paused dramatically, a knowing smirk curving her full lips. "Sleeping in the same bed as a very virile sorcerer whom you just can't wait to jump!?"

          "Sarah!" Belle gasped, the blush in her cheeks deepening to a violent red. She lowered her eyes to her task and brushed her hair back, reaching for the pan Sarah had cooked the bacon in, exposing her swan-like neck to her friend's gaze.

          "HAH! I knew it!" she shrieked pointing a finger at Belle and the love bite clearly evident on the creamy flesh just beneath her ear. "You've been doing more than sleeping. Has he been plowing the royal field, princess?" she asked crassly, waggling her brows lasciviously.

          "Oh, dear gods!" Belle moaned in the face of her friend's amusement. "Sarah!"

          "You can 'Sarah' me until you pop one of your corset strings, love, but it won't change the fact babes are made that way."

          Belle threw the soapy sponge back into the water and dried her hands on a towel. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her friend. "And we didn't do _that_ , I'll have you know."

          "'Course not, how ridiculous," Sarah said airily, waving a dismissive hand. And then ruined the effect by saying, "I suppose that love bite just appeared on your neck while you were combing your hair this morning. Happens all the time."

          "Can you be serious for five seconds?!" Belle scolded.

          Sarah was instantly contrite as she saw Belle's face fall in the face of her teasing. "Oh, I'm sorry, love. I was merely poking fun at you. It was inevitable with you sharing a bed with him."

          Belle sat down at the kitchen table and accepted the cup of tea Sarah placed before her. "We haven't, not yet."

          "But? And don't deny it, I clearly hear a 'but' in there."

          "But that doesn't mean we can't touch," Belle said slyly. "And I'm rather disappointed in you, Sarah."

          "What? Why?" Sarah asked, clearly surprised.

          "You've been holding out valuable information from me," Belle said and went on to tell her friend what had transpired that morning between herself and Rumpelstiltskin. She had to bite back a satisfied smile as Sarah's eyes widened to the size of wagon wheels and she used her apron to fan her heated face.

          "You didn't! You told him that?!"

          "I did. Last I checked Rumpel isn't a mind reader. If I don't tell him what I want, how is he supposed to know?" Belle asked, daintily sipping her tea as if they were discussing the weather instead of the intimate details of her love life.

          "Gods and Hecate! This is what happens when you keep your nose stuck in a book instead of listening to your instructors. You don't just go around telling your betrothed you want him to ravish you before your wedding night," Sarah countered.

          "And you've clearly misunderstood," Belle replied, taking a cookie from the tray and nibbling thoughtfully. "I simply wanted to get better acquainted …"

          "… with his body …" Sarah mumbled.

          "Are you saying you and Marcus didn't … um … almost … before you were married? I seem to remember the two of you tumbling out of the broom cupboard on the third floor of the west wing completely disheveled and red faced," Belle reminded her smugly.

          Sarah's mouth gaped open in horror before she snapped it shut and shrugged. "Point taken."

          The girls were giggling when Marcus and Rumpelstiltskin entered the kitchen from the outside, letting in the icy wind from the kitchen gardens which were covered in a fresh blanket of snow. "The paths are spelled to keep them free of snow so we don't have to worry about slipping and falling on the ice, and the wood bins for the fire have a refilling charm upon them, so if you get snowed in you won't be in danger of freezing to death and … what's so funny?" the sorcerer asked, peeved to have been distracted from the information he'd been giving his new caretaker. He arched a brow at the blush blooming on Sarah's face, and it dawned on him as to just what the girls had been discussing. He inched his hand up to pull at his cravat, feeling as if the blasted thing was choking him … only to remember he wasn't wearing one. Since when did he suffer embarrassment?

          Belle rose from her chair at the table and moved to his side, slipping her hand into his and twining their fingers. "Nothing at all, darling."

          He smiled bemusedly at Belle before turning his attention back to Marcus. "Where was I?"

          "I believe you were going to give me a list of my duties, milord."

          But he was having a difficult time concentrating on the business at hand with Belle's eyes sparkling with mischief and a beguiling smile on her rosebud mouth. "Um … we'll have to continue this later it seems." He snapped his fingers and a heavy bag of gold coins appeared on the counter. "Why not take the carriage to the village and see about warmer clothing for you and your lovely wife? There are several shops there which should have something she will like."

          "You can't mean for us to spend this," Sarah protested, weighing several of the coins in her hand, uncomfortable with such generosity.

          "I can if I wish it, dearie. And don't forget to visit the bakery. I've a yen for blueberry pie." He turned to leave the kitchen, Belle on his arm but stopped suddenly, the warmth leaving his eyes. "And should any of those miscreants give you trouble, merely remind them who your new master is."

          Sarah dropped into a quick curtsey to show proper respect for him and everything he'd done for her and her husband, thankful to be able to call the Dark One … friend.

 

*.*.*

 

          "This afternoon, perhaps, we can take a stroll in the garden if it's warm enough. Would you like that, dearest?" he asked as he led her down yet another corridor.

          Belle smiled at his enthusiasm to spend time with her. "There's already two foot of snow covering everything in the garden." She pulled him to a stop and nuzzled the pulse point beneath his jaw. "Wouldn't you rather sit on the sofa in front of a roaring fire with a cup of warm chocolate and a good book?"

          He moaned softly as she slipped her warm hands into the folds of his coat and grazed her nails over his silk covered ribs. "Perhaps I should have asked Marcus to bring the parson back with him from the village," he only half teased as he captured her hands and dropped a hot open-mouthed kiss to the palm of her right.

          "First thing tomorrow," she agreed, nodding happily. "I can't wait to be your wife, Rumpelstiltskin."

          He stared down at her, his eyes filled with awe for the petite princess in his arms. "Why?" he asked, not realizing he'd said it aloud until she arched a brow and giggled. Even when he had been married, he'd never felt truly wanted. Before Belle, he hadn't felt wanted by  _anyone_  but Bae.

          "Because I love you. Hopefully, one day soon you'll stop doubting your own self-worth and believe what I feel in my heart." A spark of magic tingled along her spine and her eyes brightened. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and wondered…

          "What is it?"

          "Um … not here in the corridor," she murmured, her eyes moving down the torch-lit hallway. "Let's wait until we get to the ballroom."

          Impatient imp that he was, he couldn't wait for them to get there under their own steam. He enfolded her in his embrace and they disappeared in a wisp of violet smoke, reappearing in the cavernous ballroom. Belle gasped in surprise as she felt the tiled floor solidify beneath her feet once more. Her eyes searched the room, taking in the walls covered in silken scarves and drapes, French doors leading out onto a terrace with a view of the mountains and sweet little cherubs painted on the ornate ceiling.

          "Odd decorating choice, darling. What's under all the scarves and drapes?" she asked curiously.

          "Mirrors, my Belle. I keep them locked in here to prevent anyone from spying on the Dark One," he said with an impish giggle. "You never know who might be watching."

          Belle gaped at the north wall, the one closest to the mountain where the drape stretched from floor to ceiling and was twice the length of the dining table in the great hall. "You can't mean to tell me there's a mirror under there?"

          "It is indeed … Winter's mirror. But we'll get to her in a moment. What didn't you want to tell me in the corridor?" he pressed expectantly. Belle grinned at his expression. He looked as though he were going to be presented with a new toy.

          She coaxed him to follow her, crooking her finger playfully and led him to a small sitting area used as a resting area for dancers at the balls the castle must have hosted centuries ago before it fell into the Dark One's hands. She wiggled her fingers over the dusty settee, clearing it of the grime before she urged him to sit down.

          "What are you doing?"

          "Do you trust me?" she queried as she raised her skirts up above her knees and straddled his lap much as she'd done that morning. Her gaze never left his as she settled onto his lap and spread her skirts out about her. "Do you?"

          Heat entered his gaze as his hands trailed over the tops of her thighs and moved to rest on her hips. He swallowed convulsively as he fought down the wave of desire which surged through him. "Yes, yes I trust you," he admitted honestly.

          She released the three gold clasps which held his coat closed and slipped her hands into the deep vee of his silk shirt to rest against his bare chest. "I don't know if I can do this, but I'm going to try."

          "Do what?" he asked, finding himself unable to look away from the deep blue pools of her eyes and feeling as though he could drown in them.

          Belle leaned forward and captured his bottom lip between her own, kissing him softly. "Sometimes," she whispered against his lips. "Sometimes words aren't enough, they're just words. I fear you'll never realize the depths of my love for you until you feel it for yourself." She molded her lips to his as the warm golden light of her magic seeped from her fingertips and crept just below the surface of his green gold skin, suffusing him with her light. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she poured every ounce of love in her heart out through her fingertips and into her beloved sorcerer. "I love you so much, Rumpelstiltskin. Can you feel how much?"

          He gasped as her magic permeated every pore and flooded his being with pure light. He felt as if he'd been set ablaze, and yet, at the same time, kissed by the softest autumn breeze. He felt peace and joy to the highest plane imaginable, nothing he'd ever thought possible. He had come close only once before and that had been when Milah had first placed Baelfire in his arms. As special as that moment had been, it wasn't comparable to this because, as before, it had been his love for his child. This was Belle's love for him. It was almost tangible, and he felt he could reach out and grab it and hold it close to his damaged heart, let it heal his blackened soul. How could he feel both fragilely human and ultimately powerful at the same time? He was weak and dizzy when the magic retreated, and his beloved was gently wiping the tears from his face.

          "Rumpel, are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

          He cradled her face in his hands and stared at her luminous eyes, awestruck. "What did you do?"

          "Did I hurt you? I took a chance I could share that with you. I wanted you to feel just as I feel every time I look upon you. I needed you to see, to _feel_ , what was in my heart, so you wouldn't doubt anymore. That is how much I love you," she whispered fervently, her tears catching on his fingertips.

          "And I love you, my dear heart." His voice was husky with emotion as he murmured, "I have never felt anything like that before. I didn't think it was possible to feel that way for someone like me."

          She barked out a harsh laugh. "I should hope no other woman feels that way about you, because I will not compete for your affections. You belong to me, my sweet imp."

          " _My_  Belle,  _mine."_  He crushed her to his chest, his arms enfolding her into his embrace, holding her as tightly as possible without hurting her with his exuberance. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth and then finally taking her lips in a searing kiss. "Thank you for showing me."

          Her fingers delved into the soft curls at the nape of his neck and she sighed contentedly against his lips. "I do believe I could sit here kissing you for the better part of the afternoon, darling, but wasn't there a specific reason you brought me to this room?"

          He cast her a lazy half-moon grin and kissed her again. "Um-hum," he acknowledged, trailing his lips along her jaw to nip at her ear, his hands curving over the swell of her bottom as he pulled her flush with his groin. "I like this better. Winter can wait."

          "Really, dearie?" A low sultry voice - which reminded Belle of wind chimes - sounded through the room as the drape covering her mirror whipped open. Belle whirled around on Rumpelstiltskin's lap and gaped at the angelic face framed by hair resembling spun moonbeams …

          Rumpelstiltskin's head fell back against the settee and he cursed the enchantress for her rotten timing. Seems like she couldn't wait after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Ah, yes … it’s about to get interesting.


	19. Chapter 19

 

          "Winter, dearie, did," *hiccup* "anyone ever tell you," *hiccup* "you're a bloody mood" *hiccup* "killer?" Rumpelstiltskin sighed, his speech slurred as his head lolled drunkenly against the back of the settee. He shook it, trying to clear the haze of euphoria from his frontal lobe.  _What in seven hells is wrong with me,_ he thought, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus.

          Belle turned back to him, bouncing against his chest as he hiccupped again. "Rumpel, whatever is the matter with you?" she asked in a soft whisper, not wishing the enchantress to know anything was wrong with the sorcerer.

          "Rumpelstiltskin, have you been drinking?" Winter asked, scowling with disapproval.

          *Hiccup* "Not a drop, lovey," he said, grinning like a loon.

          "Lovey? What've you done to the Dark One, girl?!"

          Belle's mouth gaped at him, wondering what could have possibly come over him. "Rumpel!" she hissed, patting him on the cheek.

          Rumpelstiltskin cracked an eye open and gave her thigh an affectionate squeeze. He giggled. He squinched his eyes closed and took a deep gulp of air. The effects of Belle's magic could still be felt coursing through him and every one of his nerve endings tingled. He felt as though he were floating on a diaphanous cloud and it was the closest he'd ever come to this level of intoxication. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world for the Dark One to get drunk, not with his high tolerance … stupid curse. He giggled again. "Bloody hell, this feels amazing," he muttered helplessly with another giggle. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her forward, nuzzling his nose in the valley between her breasts.

          "Rumpelstiltskin!" Belle cried, torn between the heat that action wrought and the horror of having it witnessed by someone unknown to her. What was she saying, it would have been embarrassing for  _anyone_  to witness this.

          "I like yer magics, m' Belle. They make m' feel good."

          "Fuck!"

          "Belle!" His eyes widened incredulously. "Where'd y' hear such language?" *hiccup*

          Belle ignored the snickering enchantress behind her and focused all her energy on her betrothed. Not quite so easy now that his lust had been awakened in his euphoric state and it felt as if he had more hands than an octopus had tentacles. She could feel the remnants of the magic she'd forced into him and settled her fingertips to his temples, drawing it back into herself. Perhaps later she could do it again without so much _oomph_ where they could both enjoy it … not, however, with an audience.

          He leaned into her touch as she carded her fingers through his hair, seeking her warmth to ground him. "You pack quite a punch, my love. Might want t' wait till we're alone next time, though," he said, his amber eyes finally focusing on her. He was extremely happy the hiccups seemed to have subsided.

          Belle placed a kiss on his brow and moved off his lap to sit next to him on the settee, smoothing her hands over her skirts and taking a moment to compose herself. Rumpelstiltskin glowered at the mirror and the smirking visage of the enchantress who seemed to plague his very existence. He rose to his feet, his boot heels snapping smartly against the parquet floor and echoing throughout the large room with its domed ceilings.

          "I must say, I was surprised to hear your voice on the other side of my mirror, Rumpel. Aren't you going to invite me for tea?" Winter asked sweetly. "I would so love to get better acquainted with your lovely bride," she said, her violet eyes sparkling with mirth.

          "That won't be necessary, dearie. You can speak to her from where you are just fine. Besides," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "This isn't a social call."

          Winter pursed her lips and steepled her fingers beneath her chin as she pouted prettily. "Rudeness doesn't suit you, darling."

          "Be that as it may," he snapped, twirling the fingers of his right hand in an exaggerated manner. "Belle has some questions and I'm almost certain you hold the answers."

          "Oh, she's absolutely lovely, Rumpel. And from what I just witnessed, very much in love with you." She clapped her hands gleefully, causing Belle to cast her imp a wary glance. He shrugged and gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head as if to encourage her to ignore the enchantress's childlike exuberance.

          "Belle, darling, this is Winter, an enchantress of the realm. Winter, this is Belle, High Princess of Avonlea, my betrothed," Rumpelstiltskin said, introducing them formally.

          Belle rose gracefully to her feet, an outward calm overtaking her even as her knees felt as though they would knock together to betray her nervousness. "Pleased to meet you, milady," Belle intoned respectfully, hoping the title she used would be sufficient. How did one address such a lofty personage after all? She could probably smite them all while flossing her perfect teeth and never miss a stroke.

          Winter waved a dismissive hand. "No need for such formalities, sweetling. I've watched you for so long, I feel as though we're already old friends."

          Belle could practically hear Rumpelstiltskin grinding his teeth in vexation. "Could you please tell me about your premonition or prophecy or whatever it was which made you send Rumpel to save me?" she asked, tired of the hidden agenda which seemed to overshadow the meeting. Rumpelstiltskin conjured a tea tray to the low table next to the settee and set about making her a cup, ushering her back to her seat.

          "Well, sweetling, you don't waste any time getting to the heart of the matter," Winter smiled cheekily. "Very well. But first of all, you need to know who I am to the Dark One."

          Belle absently took the cup from her betrothed and let the warmth seep into her numb fingertips as she regarded the enchantress apprehensively. Rumpelstiltskin sipped at his own cup as he paced around behind the settee, the tap of his heeled boots the only sound in the room.

          "Before time was time and the realms were young, we were created by the all-father. There are four of us. My sisters and I each have our own to look after. Spring presides over the fairies, Autumn over the gnomes and elves, and Summer over the trolls and various other creatures. There are lesser enchantresses over lesser magical creatures, but those are inferior and do not pertain to what I need to reveal to you," she said with a haughty sniff.

          Belle quirked a brow. "And you?"

          "Always so impatient," she murmured with a shake of her head. "As you may or may not know, wherever there is light there must also be darkness. The world could not forge ahead with only goodness and light … how boring would that be? Gah!"

          Belle looked at Rumpelstiltskin, her expression clearly asking,  _Is she for real?_

          "So, the first Dark One rose from the primordial ooze, his spirit bound to a mystical blade, a dagger. He became my responsibility. I don't know why the all-father chose me to preside over him, perhaps he didn't care for how I made porridge, who knows. It was very hard, being a being of good … well, as good as I can be … and have to watch over such darkness. And believe me, sweetling, the Dark One didn't get his name just because he liked to put crickets in his sister's bed as a prank. The first Dark One, Culloden, was as nasty as they come. He did many unspeakable acts which still give me nightmares. But he didn't last very long, perhaps half a century, before he was killed and the power passed to the next. After a millennium, I begged the all-father to release me from my duty, yet he refused. I despaired my duty would soon turn me to darkness as well. Until …"

          Rumpelstiltskin perched a hip against the arm of the settee and coiled a lock of Belle's chestnut hair about his finger, bored at having to hear the story again. "Must you be so dramatic, dearie?"

          "Oh, hush, imp!" she scolded. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Until Zoso, the Dark One before Rumpelstiltskin, tricked the spinner into taking on the curse. That is when things changed. Rumpelstiltskin was an honorable man, hardworking, full of love for his precious child and strong of spirit despite the stigma of cowardice attached to his name. You see, sweetling, whereas the former Dark Ones had taken on the curse in their lust for power and riches, Rumpelstiltskin only wished to have the power to protect the one he loved most, to save him from the horrors of war which should never be forced upon a child. His motives were noble. He is, therefore, able to control the dark spirit instead of it controlling him."

          Belle reached out and took his hand in hers, smiling at him proudly. "Of course, he did. Bae means the world to him. If there was some way to save him, he would do it … no matter the consequences."

          "Yes. That intrigued me. Baelfire was the love of his life, his one link to humanity the dark spirit couldn't take from him. It was a struggle to fight off the Dark One, and Rumpel would yield to it more often than not, but at least he fought against it … for Baelfire. Has he told you of the loss of his son? How he was tricked into using a magic bean? Meddlesome fairy, may she get the pox!" Winter hissed viciously.

          "Uh … yes, he's … ah … told me," Belle said, biting down on her lip to stop the giggle which burbled in her throat seeking escape. The enchantress had a way with words which cut right through the bullshit.

          Winter toyed with the large amethyst about her neck and narrowed her eyes, surely thinking of what mischief she could bring about for the Blue Fairy. "It broke my heart to see his humanity begin to die a slow death without Baelfire there to ground him. You see, the more I studied him and his fragile soul, the more I came to care for him. I didn't want to see him follow the same destructive path as his predecessors. So, I waited, and I watched. By no means was I allowed to interfere."

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted over the rim of his cup. "Tell another one, dearie."

          Winter stuck her tongue out at him in a display of childish temper. "Anyway!" she countered. "It was several centuries later when I became aware of the first vision. A child on the brink of death would have the power and fortitude of will to save the Dark One from himself. Only she would be able to save him with the power of her true love for him and wrest him free of the darkness."

          Belle worried her lip in consternation. "I understand the power of our love, but that doesn't explain to me why I have magic."

          Winter winked at the imp. "You are a product of true love, sweetling, but not just any true love.  _Both_ of your parents were also true love babies. There is no stronger magic than true love."

          "But my parents weren't magical," Belle protested.

          "They were … they just didn't know it," Winter explained. "They lived in a kingdom which scorned magic, and there was no one to teach them how to wield it. You, being the bright and resourceful child you are, recognized it for what it was and bent it to your will. The magic recognized your authority and your strength and is happy to do your bidding."

          Rumpelstiltskin rose to his feet, his lips curling back over his ruined teeth as he met the enchantress's gaze. "Why did I never sense them? There isn't a magical creature or human possessing magical talent in the known realms who I am not aware of, who I can't sense. How did I never know of the power Belle possessed? Or that of her parents?"

          Winter shifted uncomfortably and lowered her gaze. "I don't know."

          "You lie," he snarled. "Tell me the truth!"

          Winter sighed wearily. "I shielded them. You were not in a good place, Rumpel. The wear of searching for Baelfire, the darkness of your soul … you couldn't have been allowed to know of them."

          "Why?" he demanded.

          Belle hurried to her feet and strode forward, laying a comforting hand on his chest. "Rumpel, is it really that important? I don't need to know if it's going to distress you," she murmured, hoping the calm she was projecting would soothe him.

          "We've been manipulated, Belle, and I want to know why," he snarled, shaking off her hand. He glared at Winter. "Tell me!"

          "If you had known of the power she possessed, would you have saved her?" she asked, rising to her feet and glaring back at him through the silvery glass of the enchanted mirror, her voice rising shrilly. "Would you have saved her, or would you have let her die and siphoned off every ounce of power she possessed? You needed her just as she would come to need you! If I hadn't shielded her magic from you, she wouldn't be here now, standing at your side pledging to love you for the rest of your immortal life. Only she could teach you to love again, to find your humanity and a way to your Baelfire … a way which doesn't require destroying the world to take you to a land without magic."

          The Dark One swung his horrified gaze to Belle, the air in his lungs leaving him in a loud whoosh as if someone had hit him forcefully in his chest. He didn't think it could have hurt less if they had. Tears brightened the amber hue of his overlarge irises as he reached out to touch her face, his hand falling back to his side before he could make contact. "Gods! I could … I could have …"

          "No! You wouldn't," Belle protested, denying the enchantress's words. "You wouldn't, Rumpel."

          He backed away from her, shaking his head, his wild curls moving about his high collar as he fought to come to terms with what could have happened when he had been called to save his girl. Belle was forced to cover her ears as his howl of agony echoed deafeningly throughout the cavernous room seconds before he disappeared in a wisp of violet smoke. Her cerulean eyes searched the room fruitlessly for any sign of him before she whirled on the mirror.

          "Why?! Why couldn't you have just kept that little bit of information to yourself? Do you find pleasure in hurting him? Damn you!" Belle railed, batting angrily at the tears which fell from her lashes. "Do you have any idea how long it has taken me to rappel over his walls?" She marched over to the mirror, her rage barely controlled beneath the surface as she lifted her hand.

          "What are you doing? You can't destroy the mirror," Winter said with a sympathetic smile. "This mirror has been in the Dark Castle for millennia."

          A sly mirthless smile spread over Belle's petal pink lips as she met Winter's eyes. She pressed the fingernail of her index finger to the surface of the mirror and a ripple of magic sent a sharp crack outward. "Can't I?"

          Winter's eyes widened. "This mirror is unbreakable. Rumpelstiltskin and his predecessors have tried many times. How?"

          "You hurt my imp. I won't allow you to do so again. He is no longer your charge, but mine, no longer your plaything, but my dearest love to protect. You are no longer welcome here in our home," Belle replied calmly, focusing her seething anger on the spreading spider web of cracks.

          "Wait!" Winter shrieked, but it was too late, the shards of the mirror dropping to the parquet floor at Belle's feet.

          Belle turned on her heel and strode toward the door which would take her back into the main part of the castle … a castle which was shaking on its very foundation from the pain of its master. She hurried out of the north wing and turned left into the west, where the most often used rooms were, as well as the corridor and stairs which led into their master suite and Rumpelstiltskin's tower laboratory. Sarah and Marcus were stumbling into the main entry doors as Belle entered the foyer.

          "What fresh hell is this? Are we under attack?" Sarah called out as Belle rushed past.

          Rubble rained down on them as the castle gave a violent tremble. "Rumpel received some disturbing news. I'm sure the castle will survive it, but I need to see to him."

          "Should I come with you or do you want me to start dinner? Sometimes a good meal can settle an ornery man's temper," she said, giving Marcus a telling look. He rolled his eyes and began carrying their packages into the Great Hall.

          "Brilliant idea! And sweets! Lots of sweets! You know what a sweet tooth he has," Belle called over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs and disappeared from view.

          Sarah carried her own packages and followed after her husband. "Now that's one story I cannot wait to hear," she snarked, setting the blueberry pie in the center of the counter. "If we survive it."

 

*.*.*

 

          The tower laboratory was a disaster when Belle finally made it to the top and pushed open the heavy oak door. Potions littered the wood floor, the Agrabahan carpet which covered it, smoking in places. Glass, an overturned pewter cauldron and one intact test tube covered his work table. The doors of his storage cabinet were hanging limply from their hinges and books were a torn mess and scattered about the room. She wrinkled her nose, the noxious odor of rotten cabbage permeating the air. But there was no sign of her beloved. She would deal with this mess later, finding him was her highest priority.

          The Dark Castle had ceased its trembling and was now eerily silent, and she didn't know which was more frightening, the shaking or the silence. But she knew she couldn't continue searching without aid. She retrieved a scarf from beneath his overturned spinning wheel and held it to her cheek. "Rumpel …" she murmured, sending out feelers to locate him, her senses stretching and twisting throughout the stone edifice in search of his essence. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in their bedroom.

          Her imp was sitting before the cold hearth in the leather wingchair, a jug of goblin-made fire whiskey dangling from his hand as he stared off into nothing. He looked absolutely miserable, lines of pain marring the green gold skin around his eyes and mouth. She moved to his side, tossing the scarf onto the chest at the foot of the massive four-poster on her way. He flinched when she reached out to lay her hand on his arm, her other hand taking the jug and setting it on the floor beside his chair.

          "I hope that stuff tastes good, because it won't make you drunk. It won't let you drown the pain," she admonished, gently stroking his soft curls.

          He shot to his feet, flinging her hand away from him. "You shouldn't even want to be in the same room with the monster."

          "I see no monsters here, Rumpelstiltskin, only the man I love," she countered softly, forcing herself to control her temper at those words. He knew she hated for him to speak of himself in such terms.

          "Am I not?" he asked, barking out a harsh laugh filled with bitterness. "It's not every day I learn that I would have killed you," he twirled his fingers to emphasize his point. "Snuffed out your life, love. No big deal."

          "Rumpel —"

          "I'd have my Bae back by now if I had," he whispered, his gaze sliding away from her.

          Belle gasped. "Is that what you think? Because I don't believe it. Tell me something. Would it have been worth having him back and having him hate the thing you'd become? Now when we bring him home, he will have his father back instead of the Dark One."

          "I'll always be the Dark One, dearie. There's no changing that," he stated matter-of-factly.

          Belle slapped him as hard as she could, her hand stinging painfully. A low growl erupted from his chest as he lifted a hand to cover his throbbing cheek. "You don't get to push me away. This is what you wanted … me! You gave me your heart and I'll not be returning it. Do you understand me, Rumpelstiltskin?" she demanded. "I will not let you slip back into darkness because of something which  _could_  have happened. It didn't and there's no going back … only forward … together."

          He dropped to his knees before her and wrapped his arms about her waist, burying his face in the softness of her belly. "I'm sorry. I want you both, Belle. I want you  _and_  my son. I  _need_  both of you. But I could have —" his voice broke on a sob.

          Belle wrapped her arms tightly about his shoulders and held him to her, crooning soothing nonsense against the crown of his head. "It didn't, my darling. I'm here with you and I will hex anyone to the other end of the realm who tries to take me from you." She winced as his arms tightened. "Come, get up off the floor, please?"

          "I don't deserve you, Belle. I don't deserve either of you." he mumbled against her belly.

          "Nonsense. Now rise up," she coaxed.

          He wouldn't meet her eyes, his own moist with unshed tears as he let her lead him to their bed. She climbed up on the mattress and tossed her shoes over the side before holding her arms open to him. He magicked his boots to land beside her silk slippers, not wanting to take the time to unlace them and laid down beside her, sighing happily as she pulled his head to lie against her soft bosom, her sweet floral scent enveloping him. She relaxed back into the pillows and threw her leg over his hip to hold him in place as she carded her fingers through his hair.

          They were silent for several long moments before she spoke quietly. "I may have made a mess in the ballroom."

          He frowned, but kept his eyes closed. He was too weary to worry over it. "It's alright, sweetheart, we have another tea service," thinking that was the only thing she could have broken or damaged in the room since the mirrors were enchanted.

          "No, darling, not the tea service."

          "The French doors leading out to the terrace needed replacing anyway," he murmured, his lips trailing softly over the curve of her left breast.

          "Um … no," she shook her head, a smug smile curving her lips as she pulled him closer, his hand trailing down her side to curl over the curve of her hip.

          His head lifted, and his warm amber eyes glowed in the dim light of twilight coming through the windows near the bed. "Dearest, the only thing left in the room is …"

          "I broke Winter's mirror and severed her link to the Dark Castle. Now if she wishes to speak with you, she can come to the front door just as any other guest," she murmured sheepishly.

          He stared at her, awestruck. "Belle, nearly every Dark One, who has ever lived in this castle, has tried to break that mirror."

          "I may have a bit of a temper," she retorted, chewing thoughtfully at her lower lip. He rescued it, sucking it between his own and nipping softly.

          "Just a wee bit. You're more powerful than I first suspected," he mused. "We must be careful to protect you. There are those who would use you for such power."

          "You will protect me, sweetheart. My power will be for us … for our family and those who need our help, but never for evil. I won't let you slip back into the darkness," she vowed. "Not now when I have you in the light."

          "We can't let anyone know, however," he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her atop his chest, her hair falling like a curtain around them as he claimed her lips. "I have a reputation to uphold, after all. Don't want it to get out I'm not quite as dark as I once was."

          "Yes, love, that would be a pity," she said, rolling her eyes bemusedly and melting into his embrace.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

          "It's b-bloody well freezing in h-here," Belle stammered, her teeth chattering violently. Even burrowed into Rumpelstiltskin's side, taking advantage of his above average body temperature, wasn't helping. She huffed in exasperation and fought her arm out from beneath the duvet and quilt. Within a moment the hearth was roaring with life and she was diving back beneath the blankets.

          Her betrothed grunted in discomfort as she pressed her cold nose in the hollow of his throat and pulled the blanket completely over her head. "Dearest, did you just toss a fireball? From our bed?" he asked sleepily. "Are you trying to torch the bedclothes?"

          "It was either that or turn into a popsicle, so yes," she murmured, a smile in her voice. "I thought you were asleep."

          "How am I supposed to sleep with you wiggling about so sweetly against me, hmm?" He still hadn't opened his eyes, simply relishing the press of her silk clad form nestled flush with his in the middle of their big bed. They'd been holed up in their room since she'd found him brooding last evening following Winter's revelations, not even leaving it for dinner. He'd woken sometime around midnight and magicked them into their night clothes, so they'd be more comfortable.

          "I could never do that at home. I was watched too closely. It just wouldn't do for them to burn me at the stake, now would it?"

          "Indeed not," he agreed. He rolled her beneath him, throwing a leg over both of hers and delving his hands into her sleep-mussed hair as he lowered his head to claim a kiss. "Are you warming sufficiently now?" he queried, holding her gaze as she trailed her hands over his bare back, her nails scratching lightly. He was careful not to press too heavily onto her, not wanting to crush her, but gods how he wanted to. He wanted to bury himself deep in her heat and feel her love wrap around him and never let her go.

          "What is it, darling? Why are you staring at me? Do have I cruddies in my eyes?" she chuckled, raising her hand to rub at her eyes.

          His smile widened as he shook his head slowly. "I just can't seem to get enough of looking at you now that I can freely do so," he murmured, kissing her again.

          "My papa's a muttonhead," she sighed wearily. "Who thinks of such things to put in a contract? I mean, really?" She rolled her eyes and grinned cheekily as she reached up to sift her fingers through his soft curls and rub along the nape of his neck. "Darling, I didn't know you could purr," she said silkily. "I think I like that."

          Rumpelstiltskin arched a condescending brow at her. "The Dark One does  _not_ purr," he insisted.

          A mischievous gleam entered her eyes as she snaked a hand down his back and scratched gently at the base of his spine above the waistband of his cotton sleeping pants. The sound grew louder as his warm amber eyes closed and he dropped his lips to the crook of her neck to nuzzle the soft flesh there. "Really, my darling imp? Sounds like a purr to me," she teased. She would have said more had her stomach not growled loudly.

          "Seems to me I'm not the only one of us who makes odd noises. You missed your dinner last night. I'm surprised Sarah didn't come charging up here to find out what sort of mischief kept us from it," he told her, rolling onto his back and pulling her across his chest.

          "She knows better than to interfere in certain things. She and Marcus thought we were under attack when they returned from the village. I'll talk to her in a bit," she said, kissing the tip of his nose and smiling down into his eyes.

          His brow creased in puzzlement, though the half-moon grin never left his lips. "What?"

          "I'm marrying you today," she whispered, her tone filled with reverence. "I don't have to wait until my birthday to fulfill a silly contract. Today you'll be my husband."

          "Oh, my beautiful Belle," he moaned, kissing her softly. "Remind me to thank your father for poisoning me and putting an end to that infernal thing." He chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound.

          Belle wrinkled her nose in irritation as he rolled out from under her and went to his wardrobe to choose his clothes for the day. They wouldn't be dressing for the wedding until that evening, but she didn't particularly like what he’d chosen for that morning. "You're … um … not wearing that, are you?" she asked, taking in the black and copper paisley shirt.

          He looked down at the shirt he'd just pulled onto his left arm. "I was planning to, yes. What's wrong with it?" he asked, frowning.

          Belle shrugged and stretched her arms above her on the pillows, smiling provocatively at him and making no move to leave their nest. "Oh, nothing."

          "Apparently, it's something if you've remarked upon it." He held up the shirt for a closer inspection and then held it against the vest he was going to wear over it. Everything matched. With a huff of exasperation, he asked again, "What's wrong with it?"

          "It looks like a griffin threw up on it."

          He arched a brow at her, tossing the shirt to the rug and planting his hands on his slim hips as he stared at her. "There is nothing wrong with my attire, I'll have you know."

          Belle tossed the duvet and quilt aside and scooted out of the bed, her hips swaying as she moved to stand before him. His tongue snaked out to wet his suddenly dry lips as he took in the midnight silk night gown which swathed her curvy frame. Her hands splayed out on his chest as she leaned up on her toes and kissed the underside of his jaw. He shivered as his hands rose to bunch in the silk covering her hips.

          "I didn't say anything was wrong with your attire. You're always very splendidly turned out, love … very handsome. But you don't have to choose such somber or earthy tones. I know for a fact you have some color in that wardrobe. Some reds," she murmured, trailing her lips down the side of his throat to his collarbone. "Some blues and perhaps greens as well. Your attire doesn't always have to reflect your title of Dark One."

          He wound her long swath of hair around his arm, his hand gripping the length in his hand as he dragged her head back and seized her mouth, his tongue delving into the hot recesses of her mouth to duel with hers. "I'm not sure I like this effect you have on me."

          She smiled up at him with a gamine-like grin and raked her nails over his flat nipples, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from him. "And how's that, darling?"

          "You're very damaging to my control. And considering I share my body with a dark demon, that's not always a good thing, dearest," he warned. She made him feel so much, so many things at one time, it was difficult to focus on them all. The Dark One didn't like that she was able to bring out the good in him, and he roared in outrage, fighting the spinner for control.

          She nipped at his lower lip, her smile never faltering. "You'd never hurt me, no matter how little control you displayed." She met his gaze unflinchingly as an odd golden glow lit behind his narrowed eyes. "I will gladly challenge the Dark One and come away the winner. Would you care to know why?"

          His lip twitched in the beginnings of an involuntary snarl. "Why's that, princess?" he asked, the thin thread of his control ready to unravel. The demon knew how dangerous she was, especially now that she'd succeeded in chasing his watcher away. It was very possible she could find a way to rid the spinner of him for good and that was something he could never allow to happen. Yet, if he took the girl from the spinner, there was no way to be certain the man's fragile soul would survive the loss, and he couldn't take that chance.

          "Because I hold your heart, my sweet imp, all of it. You are mine and I will never forsake you. What kind of woman would I be if I only loved the good parts?" she asked gently, brushing the hair away from his eyes.

          He inhaled sharply and leaned into her touch, thanking the gods for her as the darkness began to recede again. "You are the only lass I know brave enough to do so, and you're right … I would never hurt you," he said vehemently. "You give me such hope for the future, Belle. I'd forgotten what that felt like."

          She smiled as he tucked her head beneath his chin and held her tightly within the circle of his arms. "I will always choose you, Rumpelstiltskin … always." Gently she extracted herself from his embrace and turned her attention to the open wardrobe. "Now let us see if we can't find something to reflect our joy instead of your dreaded melancholy, shall we?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Sarah and Marcus were just carrying the breakfast dishes into the Great Hall when Rumpelstiltskin and Belle entered that morning. "All is well between you then? We missed you at dinner last night," she said, pouring tea for them all. Marcus had already drawn the sorcerer into a discussion of the empty pasture land in the northern corner of the vast property and the merits of raising sheep, giving Sarah a chance to speak quietly with Belle.

          "All is well, Sarah, fret not. We're getting married today," she beamed, her smile radiant.

          "But there's so much to be done," Sarah gaped, her face falling in worry. "I have a feast to plan and what of your dress? And the castle needs to be cleaned and …"

          Rumpelstiltskin speared her with a glare. "Today, dearie. Simply ask the castle and you shall receive the help you desire. Everything will take care of itself, but Belle and I  _will_ be married today. There is no reason why we should have to postpone our wedding another day," he affirmed, squeezing Belle's hand in his own where they rested together on the arm of his chair as they sipped their tea. "Marcus, I will need you to venture into the village and see to procuring the parson for me, if you will. And in the next several days we'll visit the sheepherder down the mountain to see if he might have a few dozen sheep he'd be willing to sell us. It would be a nice change to spin some quality wool instead of straw," he mused.

          "Perhaps you could make something for Baelfire for when he comes home," Belle suggested, tucking into the delicious omelet Sarah had prepared for them.

          He smiled slightly as he began eating, chewing thoughtfully and thinking Belle's idea had merit. He still hadn't quite figured out how Belle was supposed to lead him to his lost child, but it would be better to be prepared when she did. They were nearly done with breakfast when he felt the wards ripple about the Dark Castle, followed by a loud knock on the entry doors.

          Sarah waved him off when he would have risen. "You finish your breakfast, I've got it."

          "My stomach feels fluttery," Belle murmured absently, pouring herself another cup of tea and adding honey and lemon to it, hoping the brew would help ease whatever was causing the upset.

          "Not to worry, sweetheart. It's simply the wards around the castle alerting us to a visitor. Nothing more. You, as its mistress, and magical to boot, will always be able to feel it," he explained.

          Sarah left a crack in the doors as she proceeded into the foyer and yanked on the heavy iron and wood doors, her brow arched as she took in the visitor. "May I help you?"

          "Oh, hello, I wish to speak to your mistress, if you please," the visitor asked, holding a package close to her chest.

          Sarah eyed the woman in her flowing lavender robes, warily, but stepped aside to allow her into the castle. "Wait just a moment, please, while I see if Lady Belle is available to receive you," she said with a hesitant smile. She left the woman there in the foyer and slipped back into the Great Hall. "Belle, someone is here to see you … a woman."

          Belle frowned. "No one knows I'm here, Sarah."

          Rumpelstiltskin was on his feet in an instant, prepared to protect and defend. "Who is it, dearie?"

          "I don't know. I've never seen her before."

          The Dark One waved the doors open with a twitch of his spinner's fingers as Belle asked Sarah to bring a tea tray up to the library where she would receive their guest and set off after her betrothed. She nearly plowed into his back when he stopped suddenly, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

          "You! What are you doing here, Winter? Haven't you caused enough mischief? I won't stand for any of your treachery on my wedding day," he snarled, his thin lips curled back over his ruined teeth.

          "I know, and I've come to apologize," she said humbly. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Rumpelstiltskin. Will you please just speak with me?"

          Belle laid her hand between his tense shoulder blades and forestalled him from booting the enchantress from their home. If Winter couldn't behave, that was a job she wanted for herself. He turned his head to the side, showing she had his attention. "Invite her to tea, darling, and we'll have a chat. Be hospitable," she asked softly.

          Winter's face lit up happily as she smiled gratefully at Belle.

          Rumpelstiltskin nodded, his midnight blue frock coat swirling about his knees as he turned and offered his arm to Belle, leaving Winter to follow behind them. A cheery blaze erupted in the hearth of the library as they entered, the castle anticipating its master's needs and acting accordingly. He kissed Belle on the cheek and moved off to his spinning wheel where the women could talk privately without his interference but have him near should his presence be warranted. He, frankly, couldn't have cared less what the meddling enchantress had to say. She'd manipulated him for the last time.

          Sarah came in with a tea tray and refreshments for their guests, serving Rumpelstiltskin and assuring him Marcus had already left for the village to summon the parson. Winter sipped daintily from her cup and smiled remorsefully at Belle.

          "I am truly sorry things ended as they did yesterday. I in no way wanted to hurt either of you," she apologized. "I didn't want to tell him the sordid truth, but I've always found it rather difficult to be less than honest with Rumpelstiltskin. Since I was charged with the task of watching over the Dark One, he has been the only bright spot in my duty. He's so unlike those who came before him."

          Belle smiled lovingly at her beloved where he stood next to his wheel idly spinning at a sedate pace. "He is a special soul. He controls the darkness … it doesn't control him."

          "I find it doubtful you would have been so accepting of him before you came into his life. He wasn't very nice," Winter whispered in an aside. "Your love has made him into what he is today. He still has his moments, but he's, by far, better for it," she said with a cheeky grin.

          Belle blushed prettily at the praise, thinking of that very first letter he'd sent her.  _No one breaks deals with me, dearie!_  Oh, how her temper had flared over that one line. She'd had her work cut out for her, but the more they'd corresponded, the more the tone of his letters had changed. It was hard to believe she'd fallen in love with him through their letters.

          "He saved more than my life when I was a babe. He saved me from a long miserable life as a princess. I would have been forced to wed someone for the good of producing an heir to the throne to someone who couldn't love me as my Rumpel does. He saved me, so it was only right I save him right back."

          Winter reached forward and cupped Belle's cheek in her hand. "You will have the most beautiful children with him, milady," she sighed, her voice taking on a wistful tone. "There will be many trials for you to overcome, but your love will endure, and you will find happiness."

          Belle regarded her warily, not knowing how to respond to that. She looked over at Rumpelstiltskin who was watching the enchantress through narrowed eyes, but he too remained silent. Winter dropped her hand back to her lap and caressed the gift where it rested upon her knees. "I've brought you a gift to commemorate your wedding. I thought it would be fitting considering Rumpel is the first Dark One ever to choose a bride. Or at least a bride he didn't choose to eat."

          Belle gasped in horror. "I beg your pardon?"

          Winter nodded, a look of revulsion on her angelic face, her moonbeam curls bouncing saucily. "Jazzik, the fifth Dark One, and it wasn't exactly his bride, but that of an earl he was displeased with, but …" she waved a hand dismissively. "… that's neither here nor there."

          The sorcerer pinched the bridge of his nose and Belle could see he was counting slowly to ten and praying for patience. "Winter, dearie, could you please keep the gore to a minimum? We just breakfasted."

          "Of course, darling." She placed the wrapped package in Belle's hands. "For you, my dear."

          Belle rose from the sofa and moved over to a worktable Rumpelstiltskin had moved into the library. She moved several books aside and laid the large package on its surface. Her betrothed abandoned the wheel to stand beside her, encouraging her to open it with a nod. She untied the pretty lavender ribbon and pealed the purple paper away, revealing a … book.

          "Well, at least she brought you something useful, sweetheart. Perhaps she knows you better than either of us had anticipated," he said with an impish giggle. "What is it, dearie?" he asked the enchantress. "A journal?"

          Winter sipped at her tea, smiling at him fondly over the rim. "Yes, mine."

          Rumpelstiltskin flipped open the embossed cover to discover one blank page after another. "How can it be yours if it's blank? What good is a blank journal? How can it look so old if it's blank?" he asked, rapidly firing questions at the woman. Winter rolled her violet eyes and folded her hands before her, holding her tongue.

          "What do you mean, Rumpel?" Belle asked.

          Winter stepped to her other side and stared at her in amazement. "You can see the text?"

          "Of course, I can see it," Belle said, frowning between the two of them, quickly losing her patience.

          "Belle, it's blank, love."

          "No, it's not," she insisted.

          "Are you insinuating —"

          "I'm not insinuating anything, Rum. I'm looking at the words on the page.  _Written this 21st day on the eve of the solstice …"_

          Winter slammed the book shut, drawing a startled glance from Belle and a low growl from the Dark One. "You mustn't read aloud from the book, dear. The secrets of the Dark One must not be spoken."

          "Alright, I've had enough of this. Explain yourself," he snarled.

          "I can't believe you can really see it," Winter said, clapping her hands with excitement. "You really are his new watcher. When you broke my mirror yesterday, I suspected, but I didn't know for certain until you could see the text. If you weren't destined to be joined with him, not just in marriage, dear, but in magic and so much more, you wouldn't be able to read the text." She arched a brow. "Well," she said with a chuckle. "Your wedding night should be interesting."

          "What in seven hells is that supposed to mean?" he bellowed, his face twisted in rising panic.

          "Rumpelstiltskin, sometimes I wonder if you ever listen to anything I try to teach you, dear. The Dark One must be bound to an enchantress … me, unless another takes my place. I always dismissed that myth as just that … a myth. Who, after all, would choose to bind themselves willingly to the Dark One?"

          "Are you saying my Belle is an enchantress?"

          "Well, she's powerful enough to be one. Especially now that she's released the power within her instead of keeping it bottled away."

          Belle whistled shrilly, silence falling between the bickering mages. "I'm sorry, but can we go back to the part about my wedding night? Considering that the event will take place this evening, I would really like to address  _that_  issue now."

          Winter looked positively gleeful. "It will be proof to the myth, sweetling."

          "Which myth is this again?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, grimacing.

          "When the Dark One blade was forged and bound to the demon, the all father wanted to bind me to him, but I refused. He hoped one day I would have a Dark One in my charge whom I would accept. Never happened."

          "Winter!"

          "I'm getting there," she hissed in exasperation over his impatience. "The only way an enchantress, or any mortal for that matter, can be bound to the Dark one is through love, life and body. Your hearts are joined through your love, your lives will be joined through marriage and your bodies will be joined in the consummation of that marriage. Belle will be joined to you in a trinity of magic. She will be immortal and live just as long as you will because one cannot be without the other."

          "This is absurd. There are mortals all over the realms celebrating those very things every day," Rumpelstiltskin scoffed.

          "Oh, Rumpel, not just any woman would have been able to help return your humanity." She reached out and plucked a hair from the crown of his head. He yowled and bared his teeth at her. "Oh, don't be such a big baby!" She turned to Belle. "Might I have one from you as well, dear?"

          Belle plucked her own and held it out to the enchantress, curious to find out what she was up to. Winter conjured a clear glass vial and dropped the hairs in, handing it to the doubting imp. "See for yourself, Rumpel." Belle's longer hair glowed bright blue whereas Rumpelstiltskin's short hair glowed a bright purple. The two hairs danced about each other, coiling and twining. "True love, dear."

          "I suspected as much, Winter, but what of the other factors?" he asked sulkily. He really hated it when she was right about her little theories. He didn't need a spell to tell him that his love for Belle and hers for him was true.

          "No other Dark One has ever taken a wife nor has he ever taken a woman except by force. You both possess the most powerful dark and light magic I've ever encountered, but because you love each other, you aren't out to destroy one another. You are the perfect balance." She took Belle's left hand and Rumpelstiltskin's right and lifted them until their palms were mere inches apart.

          Belle gasped, her eyes widening. Rumpelstiltskin sucked in a sharp breath, amazed at what was happening. A shadowy mist erupted from his palm to meet the frosty white mist which leapt from Belle's. It was as if their magics sought each other, merging, melding and dancing about the other in perfect harmony. "Balance," Winter intoned reverently. "Perfect balance."

          They raised their eyes to one another, mesmerized by the pull, lifting their other hands to join as well. The swirling shadow and frost erupted from them to swirl around the three, creating a gentle vortex. Winter pulled Belle away from Rumpelstiltskin, breaking the contact. "What was that?" Belle asked, breathless with excitement. "That was amazing."

          "Yes, well, we don't need to open any portals now do we?"

          Rumpelstiltskin ceased to breathe. "Portal? A portal to where?" he asked, his heart thundering at the possibility. Could it possibly lead them to Bae?

          Winter confirmed his suspicions. "To anywhere you desire, dear."

          "To Baelfire," Belle breathed.

          "But you must wait until you are completely joined. You will be powerful and will be more readily in control. You will understand when the time is right."

          "Winter, Baelfire is in a land without magic. How will we be able to find him and if we do, how will we ever be able to return?" he asked, voicing his fears.

          Winter smiled softly, so happy her former charge was finally on the right path. "True love is the most powerful magic of all, Rumpelstiltskin. As long as you are together, you will never be without your magic. She cannot go without you, just as you cannot go without her. You will travel there together just as you will return together." She laid her palm alongside his face and stroked his cheek. "You deserve this for the sacrifice you made long ago, and I wish you both much happiness."

          Belle reached out and squeezed the enchantress's hand. "Thank you. Thank you for leading him to me."

          "As I told you yesterday, sweetling, he is unlike any of the others the Dark One has inhabited. He is kind and gentle … deep down. He just needs to remember. Take care of him." Winter turned from them, was nearly at the door when she turned back to Belle. "The last passage of the journal. You might want to read that one first."

          "Did you know?" Belle asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as he scooped her up in his arms and bore her to the sofa, sitting and settling her onto his lap.

          "They were myths, sweetheart. Truly, I didn't think they were credible." He nuzzled his lips in the crook of her neck, scorching a path of heat to her ear. "Belle, we're going to find my boy."

          " _Our_  boy, Rumpel. And soon." Her thumb caressed his collarbone absently as he explored her mouth in gentle sipping kisses, simply enjoying being with him. At least now she had a clear idea of why she felt so good when she was with him and had been so miserable when they’d been apart.

          Marcus cleared his throat just inside the door to the large book-lined room. "Milord," he called, interrupting them.

          "Yes?" he asked. He waved his new caretaker into the room, knowing the man wouldn't disturb their solitude without good reason. "Did you have Sarah offer refreshments to the parson and see to his comfort?"

          "Not exactly."

          Belle turned on Rumpelstiltskin's lap and cast her puzzled gaze upon her friend. "Is something wrong, Marcus?"

          "Yes, milady, we have a slight problem," he said with a grimace, hating to be the bearer of bad news.

          "Well, out with it, dearie," the imp demanded, his hand rubbing idly at Belle's arm, chasing away the gooseflesh which rose in wariness.

          "The clerics in the village refuse to come to the Dark Castle to perform the wedding. And they may be attempting to gather a mob to come rescue Lady Belle from your … and believe me when I tell you these are  _not_  my own words … vile clutches," Marcus said.

          Rumpelstiltskin giggled shrilly, clearly amused at the thought of an angry mob trying to rescue his darling Belle. "What say you, sweetheart? Are you in need of rescuing?" he teased.

          "That's not funny in the least, Rumpel," Belle admonished, her gaze narrowing angrily. "How are we to get married without a clergyman?"

          He kissed the pout from her rosebud mouth and set her on the sofa, bounding to his feet. He placed one hand on his chest and the other flourished dramatically, his index finger pointing upward. "Fear not, my dear one. The Dark One will return with a willing cleric to bind you to my evil soul with all haste."

          "Oh, brother," she snorted, rolling her eyes and grinning. His giggle was still echoing in the room as he disappeared in a puff of crimson smoke.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support and the lovely comments and reviews. xoxoxo


	21. Chapter 21

 

          His amber eyes flashed hotly, and a small sapling toppled over under the blast of magic which erupted from his spell-clever fingers. Belle would have laughed and said the sapling had keeled over in fright. And that is where he should be, enjoying every moment with her before their wedding. Instead, he was standing in the middle of the Dark Forest on a fool's errand. He'd deal with those bloody villagers in his own way. He provided for them as liege lord and yet he couldn't have one measly cleric come up to the Dark Castle and perform a short intimate wedding ceremony. And what would they do without his patronage and generosity? They'd starve! It would serve them right.

          He didn't have time to deal with this, not with the warning of an angry mob on its way to his home to steal his bride. He was going to miss the entertainment of said bride blasting a rather sizable crater in the side of the mountain. He giggled just thinking about it, the sound echoing through the dense forest. He could literally feel his heart warm in his chest as he thought of his Belle. He still cringed whenever he thought of what would have happened if Winter hadn't intervened and concealed Belle's magic from him. He never would have known what it was to have someone love him with such a true and abiding love. He knew he didn't deserve her, knew he would never be good enough for her, but it would be easier to carve his own heart from his chest with his dagger than to give her up.

          The Dark One was fearful of his little consort and the thought made him smile. It had been centuries since he'd felt fire and passion and warmth for anything other than his mission to find his son and now he had that all bundled into one special little princess who would fight to her last breath for him. Let the demon cower in fear in the face of her love, it was the spinner's turn to control his own destiny. The silly contented grin quickly vanished from his lips as the arrow struck the ground at his booted feet. His lips curled back over his teeth in a sneer and one dark brow lifted in askance.

          "Well, really, dearie. Is that any way to greet a guest?"

          A pair of booted feet swung gaily from the branch of the beech tree off to his right, accompanied by a drawling voice Rumpelstiltskin had hoped never to hear again. "And you should know me well enough to know I missed on purpose."

          "Indeed. So, come down out of that tree so we can have a chat, you and I," he said in a serious tone sure to surprise the man. It went against everything he'd ever been to appear non-threatening to the outlaw.

          Robin threw his bow to the forest floor and swung from the tree to land lightly on his feet, spreading his hands out in a gesture of friendship. "How can I be of assistance, Dark One? I am assuming you've come to collect on the life debt I owe you."

          "Ah, yes, the use of a wand in my collection to save your true love in exchange for a favor. You're very fortunate I didn't demand your life when you fell from your horse and broke the damn thing," the sorcerer grumbled.

          "It was an accident," Robin said with a grimace.

          "You were besotted with drink!" Rumpelstiltskin hissed, his eyes flashing at the loss of such a valuable magical tool. "But I do not have time for a discussion on the hazards of over-imbibing. And I'm certain the burn on your arse from the fairy dust you unleashed in such a concentrated amount serves as a reminder."

          "It does sting occasionally on rather warm days," the outlaw admitted ruefully.

          Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes, counting to ten and trying to rein in his impatience so as not to blast the man into the next realm. "Nevertheless, I am here to collect."

          Robin felt his stomach roll over as though an ogre had taken it in his mighty grasp and squeezed. No one in their right mind wanted to owe the Dark One, least of all him. He nodded. "How may …" he cleared his throat. "How might I assist you?"

          "I am in need of a man of the cloth to perform a wedding ceremony this evening at the Dark Castle," the imp said, speaking slowly so the bandit wouldn't miss a single word. And still …

          "I beg your pardon?"

          "Really, dearie? I do not stutter or suffer from any known speech impediment. So, unless you've taken leave of your senses, I know you understood me," he drawled snarkily.

          "Yes, of course, I just … who would be getting married at the Dark Castle?" Robin asked, staring incredulously at the Dark One.

          "Me, you idiot," he snapped, whacking the man on the back of his head with the flat of his palm.

          It started slowly, the laughter, building into shrieks of mirth which set the birds to flight from the trees. It died into uncomfortable chuckles as Rumpelstiltskin stood there glowering fiercely at him. "You're serious?"

          "Would I jest about getting married? Do you not know who I am?"

          "Apologies," Robin jeered, sobering fully and scratching at his bearded chin. "The good friar might consent to performing the ceremony. He's never been afraid of you."

          "Yes, and it's because of him you're not slithering along on your belly as a snail."

          "He still regrets the loss of that rosary, however," Robin said, retrieving his bow from the forest floor and slinging it over his back.

          "It saved your worthless hide," Rumpelstiltskin drawled. "I tell you what, if he consents to perform the ceremony I might consider returning the rosary to him. You just make sure he gets there before nightfall."

          Robin's mouth gaped. "You want me to accompany him?"

          "I don't care if you bring your entire band of merry men all strumming a lyre and singing campfire songs up the mountain pass, just so long as my bride isn't disappointed." In a flash, the outlaw was suspended in midair, a vise of magic encircling his throat. "Do not cross me on this, Hood."

          The sorcerer vanished, releasing the outlaw to crash down on his backside in the slush of leaves and melting snow. Robin rubbed his throat and took the warning to heart, climbing to his feet to make his way back to their encampment and spread the news of their invitation to the Dark One's nuptials. "No one is going to believe this."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Don't know how I'm supposed to get anything done today if I keep having to stop to answer the blasted door," Sarah grumbled as she marched purposefully into the foyer and heaved the heavy entrance door open. Marcus was supposed to be at the front gates keeping the villagers out, but there was always the possibility one or two of them had slipped past him, although with the wards protecting the castle, she didn't know how. A lovely raven-haired girl dressed in rather drab peasant garb and a shorter bearded man stood on the stoop. "Yes, out with it, what do you want?" she snapped.

          "I beg your pardon, sister, but we're here to see Rumpelstiltskin," the dwarf answered, frowning at her unwelcome tone. But what could one expect from a servant of the dark sorcerer?

          "How'd you get past the gate?" she queried, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What's your purpose here? Are you expected?"

          "Um … we told your man at the gate we had business with your master."

          Sarah's eyes narrowed further. The dwarf looked as if he really didn't want to be there and the girl just looked bored. "You're not from the village, are you?"

          "No, we live half a day's ride from here near the dwarf mines," he informed her, growing weary of her questioning.

          Sarah sighed and shrugged her shoulders, stepping back and gesturing them to come inside. "The Dark One isn't at home at the moment, but if you don't mind waiting I can bring you some refreshments and see if the lady of the Dark Castle will see you."

          "You lie. There is no Lady of the Dark Castle," the young woman protested.

          "Snow, be silent," the dwarf warned sharply.

          Sarah arched a brow as she watched the girl, Snow, pull a face at her companion. "You might want to take his advice, love, and hold your tongue. Also, I'll warn you now to keep a civil tone when speaking about Rumpelstiltskin in front of Lady Belle."

          "Lady Belle?" The dwarf asked, taking Snow by the elbow and following after the girl.

          "Rumpelstiltskin's betrothed."

          The dwarf looked as though he were going to swallow his tongue at that bit of information. Sarah led them up the marble staircase and into the library where Belle was reclining on a chaise, her nose buried in the journal Winter had left for her as a gift. Sarah cleared her throat … three times before Belle noticed she was no longer alone in the room.

          "Milady, Rumpel has visitors. I thought you might like to entertain them while they wait?"

          Belle smiled warmly at the pair and offered them a seat. "Sarah, tea please, but only if you can spare the time. If not, I can …" her voice trailed off as she wiggled the fingers of her right hand.

          "I already have the water on as I was making a pot for you before they arrived," Sarah grinned, leaving the pair alone with Belle.

          Grumpy looked about the room, taking in the multitude of books, the potion cabinet and work table, the spinning wheel and stool before finally landing on the petite lady. "I … um … I didn't know the Dark Castle had a … um …"

          "What he's trying to say is he didn't know Rumpelstiltskin was engaged," Snow blurted out, tired of his hedging, twisting the frayed hem of her jerkin.

          "We're getting married this evening," Belle said, her smile radiant. "I was betrothed to him as an infant and now we're finally to be married. I must say I'm rather excited."

          Snow's brows disappeared into her hairline and Grumpy's mouth gaped open in astonishment. "You're  _happy_  to be marrying that …"

          Snow's foot shot out and connected with his shin, remembering the servant's warning. "Congratulations."

          A puff of crimson smoke heralded Rumpelstiltskin's arrival back to the castle. "Are they here? Did I miss it?" he asked, hurriedly making his way to the window which overlooked the front gate.

          "Who, darling?"

          "The mob! The one Marcus warned us about before I had to go. I didn't like leaving you here knowing they were on their way, Belle." He turned away from the window and drew her into his arms as she rose to greet him, kissing her as if it had been days instead of the mere hour they'd been parted. He pulled away and buried his face in her hair, a low rumble of pleasure sounding deep in his throat.

          "Darling, you have guests," she purred in his ear.

          His head shot up, noticing two blushing faces looking anywhere to avoid looking at him and Belle. "Snow White, hmm." He kissed Belle's hand and allowed her to resume her seat on the chaise as he walked over to his spinning wheel, his hand idly turning the wheel as he surveyed his guests. "Why could the two of you possibly need to come here?"

          Grumpy rose from the chair he'd occupied and turned to face the imp, not wanting to waste any time in getting to the purpose of their visit. "The potion you gave Snow. It changed her … she's not the same."

          Rumpel giggled, smirking at the dwarf. "Well, of course it changed her. It took away her love, left a big hole in her heart. There is no cure for what she's got. The person she was …" He leaned in close to the dwarf, glancing back at the bandit princess. "There's no way to bring her back."

          "Rumpelstiltskin, what did you do?" Belle asked, her gaze darting between Snow and her beloved.

          He rubbed the fingers of his right hand together nervously as he looked at his beloved. "Nothing to concern yourself, dearest."

          Belle gave him a pointed look, reminding him without having to say a word that she wasn't buying what he was selling. "Oh, very well. She called upon me for a potion to remove her heartache. The potion took away her memories of her true love."

          "Oh, Rum, that's awful. How would you feel if I took a potion to forget you?" she asked, her eyes filled with pain the girl must surely have felt. "When he finds her, and she doesn't know who he is, it's going to break his heart."

          He took her hand and pulled her aside. "It was just a deal, sweetheart. It's what she asked for. And no, we're not discussing you and I," he reasoned when she opened her mouth to argue. "That would never happen. I'm much too selfish to allow you to just forget about me."

          "Fix her, Rumpel. No one deserves to lose their love," she argued, crossing her arms over her bosom.

          "I can't. No potion can bring back true love. As you well know, love is the most powerful magic of all, the only magic I haven't been able to bottle," he murmured. If there was some way to bottle what Belle made him feel, he'd make a fortune and be even more renowned than he already was.

          "What about true love's kiss? Would that restore her?"

          "I don't know. True love's kiss is a load of sheep hockey if you ask me," he grumbled.

          She poked him in the chest, her eyes narrowing. "I'm going to remember you said that … later."

          "Dearest —"

          Grumpy coughed loudly to gain their attention. "Isn't there anything you can do? A spell, a potion, some kind of charm?"

          "Are you willing to try?" she asked, her cerulean eyes hopeful. "Darling, no one deserves to lose their love."

          "There's just no way, Belle."

          "Would you be willing to try, please? I might have an idea," she brightened, worrying her lower lip thoughtfully. "If we both use our magic … together … I think there may be a way."

          "Little true love baby, thinks she knows everything. Fine!" he grouched as she took his hand in hers and tugged him over to where the girl was standing next to his worktable.

          Belle smiled at Snow as Rumpelstiltskin stood at her back and reached out her hands to the girl. "Would you mind? I promise not to hurt you," she assured her when Snow gazed at her warily. She nodded, and Belle placed her hands on the girl's temples, her fingers carding through Snow's ebony locks. "Rumpel, put your hands over mine please."

          The imp shrugged and put his hands over Belle's like she'd asked and slammed his eyes closed as the spark radiated from his hands all the way up his arms to settle in his shoulders. Her magic had anchored him to her and was drawing his darkness to entwine with her light to work in harmony with each other to do her bidding. He couldn't have moved it he had tried. "Rumpel, relax; you're fighting me. I need you to accept me and you know who is fighting it."

          The Dark One roared in his head, not wanting to let Belle use his magic. The more he let her in, the more power over the spinner he lost and Rumpel had to exert all his effort to beat the demon back to give Belle what she wanted. Gold surged forth from her heart in a last-ditch effort to make him feel her love and the demon retreated. He felt her magic merge with his and the tension left his shoulders. He melted into her, relaxing and letting his chin rest on her shoulder as he sighed in contentment. Snow's mind opened up before them as the wall the potion had created crumbled to ash.

          Snow cried out, her eyes widening incredulously as her memories rushed forth. "Oh! No, Charming."

          Belle released the hold she had on Snow's head and reached out to grip her upper arm as the princess's legs threatened to give out. "Charming? Is he your love?"

          Snow nodded her head furiously. "Yes, I lost him, and now you've given him back to me. Grumpy," she said turning to her friend. "Is it true? He's really not marrying Abigail?"

          Grumpy grinned, showing all his teeth in his bearded face. "That's what I tried to tell you, but you'd already taken that vile potion."

          Belle sagged back against her betrothed wearily and yawned. "I think I need a nap," she whispered, chuckling softly as Rumpel nodded, in complete agreement with her.

          "You know, dearie," he said to Snow. "The two of you should go down to the kitchens and have something to eat and rest before you leave. You could even stay for the wedding if you like."

          Belle smiled warmly at the girl. "Yes, you should."

          "It would be a fitting  _price_  for the magic we just expended."

          Snow blanched at the emphasis he put on the word and nodded reluctantly. "Of course, thank you. We'd … um … we'd be delighted to stay for your wedding."

          Sarah came in with the tea service and set it on the coffee table and Rumpelstiltskin asked her to see to their guests. Knowing Sarah, she'd have the two of them helping her out in the kitchen with the feast she was preparing. As they disappeared out the door, Rumpel scooped Belle up into his arms and carried her to the sofa, setting her down gently and then lying down beside her and pulling her into his embrace.

          "You amaze me, my Belle. How did you know that was going to work?" he asked, pressing little kisses to her brow and temple.

          "I didn't. But I remembered what Winter showed us when she helped us combine our magics. Alone we wouldn't have been able to do it, but together the magic will do our bidding, right?" she asked, locking her gaze with his, seeking reassurance. "I'm afraid, Rum."

          He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, frowning at the fear he could feel just beneath the surface of her skin. "Of what, dearest? You know I will never allow anything to harm you."

          "We must be cautious. You are already feared for your power. No one understands who you really are, and it works well to keep those who would try to use you at bay. But if they were to try to manipulate us as Winter did … if someone were so hungry to dominate the realm …"she shivered. "No one must know how our magics work when combined, Rumpel."

          It was true that Winter had manipulated them from the beginning, but never to do them harm or have them cause harm. But if that knowledge were ever to fall to Regina or gods forbid, Cora. The Dark One retreated further inside the spinner, shuddering at the thought of them in control of such power. And for the demon to run and hide, well, he didn't even want to contemplate. "It will be our secret," he assured her, relieved she didn't worry further and drifted off into a light slumber, safe and content in his embrace.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle's eyes flew wide and her hands fisted tightly in Rumpelstiltskin's coat as a horn blew at the front of the castle. Her imp leapt over her, landing lightly on his feet and moving swiftly to the windows he'd peered from earlier. Belle rubbed at her stomach as the wards rippled.

          "I take it the concerned townspeople have arrived to rescue me from the beast of the Dark Castle," she said drolly as she swung her legs over the edge of the sofa and stood to have a look.

          "It would seem so, dearest," he agreed, his eyes alight with mischief. He slipped his arms around her waist and gave a beastly growl. "And does the fair princess wish to be rescued, hmm?"

          She tugged playfully at the ends of his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. "What do you think?"

          He pulled her tightly against his chest and rested his cheek atop her crown of curls. "We really should go down and dispense with this problem. We still have much to do before the wedding this evening."

          "Oh, yes," she agreed dryly. "What every bride dreams about on her wedding day … an angry mob!" She stole one more kiss before stepping out of his arms and heading for the door. "Let me just get my boots and cloak and I'll be ready to go down."

          He remained where he was as he waited for her, watching the scene below. A surprised grin curled his lips when he saw Sarah, brandishing a wicked looking short sword, Snow a bow and arrow and the dwarf with his pick axe striding through the courtyard on their way to the front gate. "Hmm, will wonders never cease. Dearest, do hurry, will you?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Sarah sneered at the three clerics who stood on the other side of the closed black iron gates and tapped the short sword she held against her thigh in a non-threatening manner … not that she couldn't become just as threatening as her heavily armed husband if the need arose. The ten or so villagers who stood behind them seemed more afraid than anything, as if they'd been coerced into trekking up the mountain for this foolhardy mission. Well, except for the really stupid looking lummox near the front, she thought derisively.

          "What are you lot doing here on my master's lands?" she asked, addressing the smug cleric who seemed to be in charge.

          "It has come to our attention the beast is trying to force an innocent young girl to be his bride."

          Snow lowered the bow in her hand, keeping the arrow nocked as she whispered, "Is he talking about the same girl inside? The one you can clearly see adores the man?"

          Sarah nodded. "Idiots all, without a doubt." She turned back to the crowd who shifted nervously behind the three clerics in their white robes and short cropped hair. "Begone from here before the Dark One sends you home slithering along on your bellies. What is wrong with you people?"

          Father Steven stepped closer to the gate and Snow positioned her bow. Sarah calmly said, "If he takes another step, shoot him. He's trespassing on the master's lands. We're well within our rights to protect him."

          "Protect him!? He's a demon!"

          "He's also liege lord to the village or have you simply forgotten that fact? What will become of you should he abandon you? How much money does the butcher make selling poultry, pork and mutton to this castle, or the baker? How much does the Dark One spend in his shop? I would think a considerable amount with the sweet tooth he has. Your crops never wither, but are always prosperous due to his magical aid. No one goes hungry in the village due to his generosity and patronage. Yet here you stand before the castle gates threatening to take his beloved fiancé from him. You should be ashamed of yourselves," she spat, her lip curling in disgust. "Always so high and mighty. Take yourselves away from here and go judge someone else."

          "Bewitched!" the second, shorter and heavier set cleric said, stepping forward and sprinkling holy water on her through the gate.

          Heat rose in her face as she raised a hand to wipe the water from her cheek. "Oh, you did NOT just throw holy water on me. Marcus! Open the damn gate," she screeched, raising the short sword before her. "I'll be damned if I let some thickheaded jackass come to my home and threaten my family AND douse me with holy water like I'm some under some kind of spell!"

          Snow fired off the arrow, the projectile landing an inch from the clerics booted feet. "I suggest you back off, father. I won't miss a second time." She knew what she owed the couple inside and if that meant defending the imp's home, so be it.

          "Stand down, all of you," Rumpelstiltskin commanded as he and Belle appeared on the cobblestone walkway behind the foursome. Belle tightened her grip on his arm as he led her toward the gates as they parted to allow them out. The mob backed away, leaving the clerics standing alone to face the Dark One and his lady.

          Belle smiled at them all, despite the contempt she felt towards them and their small mindedness towards Rumpelstiltskin. "Hello," she said pleasantly, the fingers of her right hand twitching with the desire to hex them.

          "Milady, we've come to liberate you from the beast!" the third cleric said, his deep voice reminding Belle of a slimy croaking toad.

          "Have you now?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, a giggle drifting past his thin lips. "What say you, dearest? Have you any desire to leave my lair?"

          Several of the villagers turned tail and ran, two of them tripping over each other to land in the falling snow, recognizing the menace in those softly uttered words. Belle bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Snow and Sarah weren't so restrained, their laughter ringing down the pass.

          "I don't believe so, darling. I'm perfectly happy to remain with you. In fact," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I really must insist."

          A low growl erupted in Rumpelstiltskin's throat as a splash of holy water hit both him and Belle in the face. Marcus had to restrain Sarah from rushing forward, his arm around her waist lifting her kicking feet from the snowy cobblestones. Belle reached into the pocket of her ermine lined cloak and retrieved a handkerchief, wiping the water from his face.

          "That was rather rude," she said, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. She lifted her hand and held it palm up, smiling devilishly as she pursed her lips and blew. The clerics and the remaining villagers toppled like bowling pins.

          "Witch! Run!" screamed one thin man with a balding pate.

          "No wonder he wants her!"

          "They'll kill us all!"

          One woman in her gown with the frayed hem, knocked her husband out of the way and disappeared into the tree line, her hands over her head as she ran. Belle giggled. "Well, that was fun. Darling, are you sure you wouldn't like to deal with these three?"

          Father Steven crawled forward pitifully in the snow and kissed the hem of Belle's cloak. "Milady, please have mercy."

          "Give me a reason," she hissed, her blue eyes chips of ice in her pale face. "You come here to take me from the man I love on the day of our wedding. I must admit I have very little mercy in my heart for men such as yourselves. Tell me something … are you basing your fear and loathing of the Dark One on Rumpel himself or the Dark One in general. Surely you realize he isn't the only Dark One in history."

          "Sweetheart, as entertaining as this is, it's really not necessary," he assured her. He'd lived with scorn and revulsion from the masses for so long, it didn't bother him … much. It warmed his heart to see her defend him so passionately.

          "Rumpel, I will not have them come to our home and act this way. It's not fair to you."

          "They're clerics, my Belle. They hold firm in their beliefs the Dark One will never be more than a vile demon. They share that in common with the fairies. There is no changing their minds." He speared the three quivering forms before him with his narrowed gaze. "Go! Begone from my lands and do not return. Next time, I can assure you we will not be so lenient." When they didn't move quickly enough he tossed a fireball at the feet of the cleric closest to him.

          Sarah watched them hastily gain their feet and retreat down the pass, scowling at their departing backs. "You should have lit their arses on fire, Imp!"

          Rumpelstiltskin giggled and winked at her. "Aren't you preparing a feast, dearie? Kind of hard to do, dallying in the courtyard," he teased.

          Sarah blanched. "MY CAKE!" she shrieked and lifted her skirts, running for the kitchen.

          Snow slung her bow over her shoulder and shook her head as she turned to follow. A snowball hit the imp in the back of his head and he whirled around to face the culprit. "Sorry, darling, couldn't resist," Belle said, running for the front doors, her betrothed in hot pursuit.

          She skirted behind a plum tree and scooped up another handful of snow, packing it tightly. She peeked around the tree, searching the courtyard for him, catching her lower lip between her teeth. She turned to peek around the other side of the tree and he caught her up in his arms, depositing a rather large handful of snow into the low bodice of her gown.

          "Ha!" he crowed, pressing his body against hers and sandwiching her between himself and the tree.

          "Gods, that's cold!" she squealed, wrapping her arms about his neck and dropping her snowball into the high collar of his frock coat. They shivered together, but really couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the closeness of their bodies pressed so intimately together in all the right places.

          His tongue rasped over her collarbone, catching the melting snow there and she bit her lip to stifle the moan which built in her throat. She no longer felt the cold, not when he made her feel such heat. It coiled in her belly and spread out to her limbs and made her ache with the beauty of her desire for him. Her hands delved into the icy strands of his hair and dragged his lips to hers. In a few short hours they'd be married and free to finally explore each other without worry, without interruption, without fear … and she couldn't wait.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me this far. You guys rock!


	22. Chapter 22

 

          Belle cried out as the chaise she and Rumpelstiltskin were curled up on lifted of its own accord, so the broom could sweep beneath it. She looked down, her hand clutching at the brocade sleeve encasing his arm. It wasn't everyday one could look out across the Great Hall and see brooms and dustpans, dusters and polishing cloths and myriad other things magically cleaning the room. When the hall had been cleaned, he was planning to decorate it for their ceremony.

          He tightened his arms about her waist and chuckled lowly against her ear. "Don't fear falling, sweetheart. I'd never let you take a tumble and hurt yourself."

          She smiled playfully and slipped her hand into his coat, letting it come to rest on his leather clad thigh. "I fear nothing when I'm with you. I was just startled is all," she purred, her lips grazing the smooth line of his jaw. "It would be more dangerous to go into the kitchen and disturb Sarah and her ragtag bunch of helpers. I thought she was going to take that meat cleaver to you when you went in there for tea and scones earlier."

          "She's a vicious little minx when she's under pressure, hmm? I think the little bandit princess and her companion bit off more than they could chew when they volunteered to help," he said, continuing to allow her to distract him with her delicate little hands. "You should begin preparing soon, dearest," he murmured, nipping lightly at her lips with his own. Gods, he thought, this day would never end. He wanted her bound completely to him with all haste. He was so close to having everything he'd ever wanted and had the very rational fear something would come to steal his happiness and joy away from him before he could firmly grasp it.

          "As should you," she breathed, her breath hitching in her throat as his lips trailed a hot path down her throat.

          He lifted his head, his warm amber eyes blown wide with desire and a devilishly wicked smile curving his lips. "I could … ah … help you into your wedding gown if you like."

          "More likely you'd help me  _out_  of my gown," she teased. "No, Sarah has insisted on dressing me for the wedding. And thank you," she said, kissing the tip of his nose. "Thank you for providing gowns for Sarah and Snow."

          The chaise made a soft thunk as it settled back against the Agrabahan carpet. "Well, we couldn't have Snow White dressed as she was, now could we? She's a princess, though exiled she may be."

          "Did you get a reply from your friend? Will he be able to attend this evening and stand up for you?" she asked, slipping out of his arms with a sigh and rising to pour herself another cup of tea from the service on the dining table.

          Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. "No, he might have a prior obligation. I wouldn't exactly call him a friend, per se, but I suppose he's about as close as I'll ever come to having one. I —"

          A loud pounding on the entry door interrupted him. "That must be the outlaw, yes?" Belle asked, setting her cup down.

          "Finally!"

          "Darling, were you afraid they wouldn't accede to your wishes?" She raised a skeptical brow.

          "Of course, not, no," he lied. There was a small kernel of doubt at the back of his mind that there would be no one in the realm who would willingly perform a marriage ceremony for the notorious Dark One. He waved a hand as he walked toward the double doors and they opened for him. He did the same for the entry doors. He was not however expecting what he found standing on his front stoop.

          Robin Hood grinned unabashedly as he leaned against the door frame, a cask perched on his shoulder, his other hand holding the tiny hand of his three-year-old son. Robin's wife and Friar Tuck stood next to him, both wearing identical expressions of polite wariness. Behind them were seven Merry men, six children - varying in ages from four to ten - and five ladies. They looked to be dressed in their best and it brought back memories for Rumpelstiltskin of when he'd married Milah in their poor village on the outskirts of the Frontlands. The imp's brows disappeared into his hairline as the women moved past him with hesitant smiles, carrying various things and asking for directions to the kitchen. One of the men lugged in what looked like an entire roasted lamb.

          He stepped back and let them in, a dumbfounded look upon his green gold face. Robin snickered. "You did say to bring the entire village if I so desired."

          "I didn't think you'd take me literally," the Dark One huffed irritably. "Sarah's going to have a fit when she sees how many guests you've brought."

          "Nonsense, Rumpel, she'll be happy to have the help," Belle scoffed, smiling brightly at the newcomers. She extended her hand out to Robin who handed the cask of mead to Little John and brushed a kiss to Belle's knuckles. "Hello, I'm Belle."

          "Milady," he greeted her respectfully as he bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Might I introduce you to my lady wife … Marian."

          Marian smiled warmly and clasped Belle's hand in both of hers. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Lady Belle. We were all very … surprised, you might say … when Robin came back to camp this morning and told us Rumpelstiltskin was getting married. I didn't really believe him," she grimaced.

          Rumpelstiltskin smirked ruefully.

          Friar Tuck stepped forward, his rotund belly preceding him. "Milady," he greeted her with a gracious nod of his head. "Dark One," he acknowledged Rumpelstiltskin, though with much less warmth. "I have no problems performing the ceremony to marry you to one another … _if_ ," he intoned, pausing dramatically and making the sorcerer scowl darkly, "if you can set my mind to rest that you are not entering into this lightly, for nefarious purposes or under duress."

          Rumpelstiltskin took Belle's hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, ushering the others to follow them into the great hall. He conjured several arm chairs and a sofa from one of the unused rooms of the castle and settled next to Belle on the chaise. "I assure you that isn't the case, Tuck. She has been betrothed to me since her birth, but that isn't the reason we wish to marry," he said, staring hard at the friar.

          Tuck regarded the princess and the happiness glowing brightly in her cerulean eyes. "Why do you wish to marry the Dark One?"

          "Because I love him and wish for nothing more than to be his wife. What other reason would I have? Yes, we were betrothed, but as we grew to know one another, it became more. He has my heart, friar, so I think it only fitting he should have my hand as well," Belle affirmed, twining her fingers with Rumpelstiltskin's and smiling lovingly at him.

          "And you, Rumpelstiltskin? You love her? Your intentions are pure?" he asked. "Gods! I never thought I would utter the words pure and Rumpelstiltskin in the same sentence," he mumbled in an aside. Robin guffawed, only to have the imp cast him a death glare which promised dire retribution.

          "Aye, I love her. I don't know why everyone finds that so hard to believe," he grumbled irritably.

          Robin leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. "And I believe you said something about returning the friar's rosary," he pointed out. The sorcerer narrowed his eyes on the outlaw. Leave it to him to remember something the imp had said in anger.

          Rumpelstiltskin reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew the rosary. It wasn't a valuable piece, merely a hand carved wooden cross and obsidian glass beads, but it meant the world to the friar, having been a gift from his dearly departed mother. The friar's dark eyes grew damp as he hesitantly stretched out his hand to take the rosary from the Dark One’s hand. Rumpelstiltskin closed his fingers over the relic at the last moment.

          "I'll have your word," he said, holding the friar's gaze.

          Tuck nodded, a smile blooming on his face. "Aye, Dark One, you have my word I'll bind you to the little lass. There is no doubt in my mind yours is a love match." The friar's hand closed over the rosary as Rumpelstiltskin opened his hand and let it dangle from one long finger.

          Rumpelstiltskin made a choked sound as Belle threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. His arms wrapped around her waist and he held her tightly to his chest, sharing in her joy. "Alright, dearest, let's make haste."

          Belle rose to her feet and let Marian and two of her ladies hasten her to the stairs and up to her room to prepare. She knew Rumpelstiltskin would send Sarah to her momentarily. "Now, let's see what we can do with this room," he said, his hands twitching as he raised them to transform the Great Hall into something befitting his bride.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Oh, Belle, I always knew you would make a beautiful bride," Sarah happily gushed as she stood back to take in Belle's appearance. "Can't we uncover the mirror, just for a moment?"

          Belle took a deep breath, fighting down the butterflies which had taken flight in her belly. "Yes, I suppose, but only for a moment. You never know who might be watching," she warned.

          "You do look amazing, Belle," Snow assured her, fidgeting with the belt on her borrowed dressing gown.

          A blush of happiness rushed to Belle's face as she stared at her image in the mirror. Her gown was simple. She hadn't wanted anything elaborate or overdone, wishing to honor her soon to be husband's peasant upbringing, yet the cloth was still of fine quality muslin with an overlay of tulle … tulle shot through with Rumpelstiltskin's own golden thread. The empire waist and fitted bodice hugged her curves, a wide golden sash resting just beneath her breasts. The square neckline was cut lower than she was used to wearing, but with her beloved having made her gown, how could she be surprised. The sleeves were long and fitted to the middle of her forearm where they flared out.

          She looked like a medieval princess. She'd insisted her hair be left unbound and Sarah had acquiesced to her request, merely pulling back a few curls from her temples and pinning them at her crown. A wreath of white roses and baby's breath encircled her head and Belle knew Rumpelstiltskin had used his magic to provide them for her as the rose bushes in the garden were blanketed in snow. The wedding gown that had been made for her to marry him in Avonlea was satin and lace and encrusted with jewels, worth a fortune and which could feed an entire village for several months. This one was much simpler and made by her love's own hands. This one she would cherish always.

          "Cover the mirror," she commanded. "Quickly." She brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye, overcome with happiness.

          "Don't cry, milady," Marian soothed, smiling gently. "This is a day of joy."

          Belle sat on the chest at the end of her bed and smiled at the ladies in her room, Snow and Sarah beginning their own preparations now that Belle was ready. "You just don't know what we've endured to finally have this day, Marian."

          Sarah poked her head over the screen she'd disappeared behind. "Yeah, it's not every bride who can say her father tried to kill the groom to stop her from marrying him," she drawled snarkily.

          "What?!" Udele, John's wife shrieked hysterically.

          Belle lowered her eyes sadly as the image of her father floated up before her mind's eye. "Papa would have done anything, tried everything to have our betrothal broken. He couldn't understand I truly love my Rumpel. He could only see the Dark One when he looked at him, never the man who lies beneath."

          "But you do, Belle, and that's all that matters," Snow said, turning so Marian could lace up the back of her rose-colored gown. Udele set her down at the dressing table and began brushing her long ebony locks. "True love is rare in this land and not something to be taken lightly. It is a miracle Rumpelstiltskin was able to find it at all."

          Udele shook her head and clucked her tongue as she began braiding Snow's hair. "He's not called the Dark One for nothing, after all."

          "I knew he wasn't all bad," Marian said, nodding. "He gave Robin the only hope of saving my life when I was pregnant with Roland."

          Sarah turned so Marian could help her lace up the emerald gown she wore. "The imp has a soft spot for children."

          "We'd better stop," Belle laughed. "If this gets out, the Dark One's reputation will be in tatters."

          Sarah sat beside Belle on the hope chest and pulled a comb through her curly hair, smirking devilishly. "So, are you nervous?"

          "Of course, not, no," Belle answered, waving a dismissive hand. What had she to be nervous about?

          "I'm not referring to the ceremony, Belle," Sarah said, giving her a pointed look. The ladies fell silent, Snow's eyes widening in embarrassment. Marian and Udele snickered quietly.

          "Oh," Belle said, blushing profusely. "Um … well …"

          "Of course, she's nervous," Udele said. "How could she not be, bringing the beast to her bed?"

          "Udele!" Marian scolded, having to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the giggles from spewing forth.

          Snow winced as Udele pulled a strand of her hair too tightly. "You don't find the claws and the overlarge eyes and the green skin a might off-putting?"

          Belle frowned at her new friend. "No, not at all. I fell in love with Rumpel a long time before I was ever permitted to set eyes on him. I could only go by what I was told by Sarah. He could have been covered in fur and it wouldn't have mattered. It was through his letters to me which showed me his heart and everything else was of little importance."

          "It's odd to see a royal marry for love, Belle. You're very fortunate to have someone you can share true love with," Snow murmured, thinking of Charming. "I hope …"

          "You will, Snow. You will reunite with your prince," Belle assured her.

          "I wonder if he's that green-gold color everywhere," Udele mused, waggling her brows at the bride.

          Marian's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "UDELE!"

 

*.*.*

 

          "Shit!" Rumpelstiltskin cursed, untying the snowy cravat from around his neck and smoothing it out, preparing to try again. He tied it again, this time noticing it was hanging lower on the left. "Shit!" he tore the offending cloth from his neck and tossed it to the floor to join three others. He reached into the wardrobe and retrieved another, one which wasn't riddled with wrinkles.

          "Need a hand?" a voice drawled from the open bedroom door.

          Rumpelstiltskin whirled around in surprise. "You made it," he said, a faint smile curling his mouth into a half-moon grin. "I was wondering if you would."

          "It's not every day the Dark One asks me to stand up for him at his wedding," Jefferson drawled as he sauntered lazily into the room and brushed the imp's trembling hands aside to properly tie his cravat. "I must say, I was surprised to receive your message. Is this the little princess you've been betrothed to since she was quite small?"

          "Yes, the same. I can hardly wait for you to meet her, hatter. She's … she's …" he stammered, searching for just the right word to describe his beloved.

          "Beautiful?"

          "Perfect," Rumpelstiltskin said in a breathy whisper. "Absolutely perfect."

          Jefferson chuckled and stepped away to rummage through the small chest sitting on the bureau which contained a myriad of cravat pins and broaches. "I think you're a besotted lovesick fool. How the hell did this happen?" he chuckled teasingly as he fastened a small gold spinning wheel broach to the center of the sorcerer's neckcloth.

          "I don't know, hatter," he said truthfully. "She just barreled into my life and decided she loved me. I didn't stand a chance. And she's so easy to love. She’s light and warmth and beauty and I don't deserve her."

          Jefferson stepped back and brushed an imaginary speck of lint from Rumpelstiltskin's white silk shirt. "She must be special if she got you to wear white. I didn't think you even owned a white shirt."

          He looked down at himself, taking in the dark linen pants, boots, white shirt and gold brocade waistcoat. "What's wrong with it? Should I change into something else?" he fretted, his brows knitting in a worried frown.

          "Rum, you look fine. I was only poking fun at you. She's going to be very pleased," he assured him, grinning.

          Rumpelstiltskin slipped his arms into the sleeves of the white frock coat with gold trim Jefferson held out to him and looked inquiringly at his best man. "Well?"

          "Impeccable taste as usual."

          A knock sounded at the door and Robin poked his head around the door. "Rumpelstiltskin, Marian just notified us that they're ready to begin whenever you are," he said.

          Jefferson rested a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder and waggled his brows. "Ready?"

          "What if she changes her mind? What if she gets cold feet? What if …"

          Jefferson passed him a flask of goblin-made fire whiskey. "Drink some of this and get a hold of yourself, man! You might be the Dark One, but right now you're acting like every other groom to ever wait at the altar for his girl. Now pull yourself together, and let's go get you hitched!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Ten minutes later, Rumpelstiltskin stood in the Great Hall beneath an arch covered in white roses. There were roses on pedestals and stands and one tucked into the lapel of his coat. The trophies had been removed to an unused room of the castle. With all the children running about, he didn't want to take a chance something would get damaged. The long dining table was absent as was his spinning wheel and the furniture which usually sat before the great stone hearth. Now the Great Hall was alight with soft candlelight and smelling of roses, chairs had been set on either side of a long white runner on the floor and he was waiting for the double doors to open to admit his bride and her attendants. He rocked back on his heels, his eyes shooting daggers at the doors as he willed them to open.

          Jefferson leaned forward slightly and whispered, "Relax."

          Rumpelstiltskin turned around suddenly, panic clearly written on his impish features. "Gods! Tell me I gave you the rings!"

          Jefferson calmly patted the pocket of his purple waistcoat. "They're right here, Rumpel."

          And then the doors were opening, and Snow was standing in the doorway in her rose-colored gown, holding a bouquet of white roses and smiling at those assembled for the Dark One's nuptials. One of Robin's men stood near the back of the hall and began playing a soft tune on his mandolin, the strains of the music carrying through the hall. The moment was a bit surreal for the sorcerer. Who would have ever thought Snow White, the exiled princess, would be attending his wedding? The thought of Regina flying into a rage amused him. Then it was Sarah's turn to come down the aisle. He couldn't help but smile at the girl as she nearly skipped down the aisle. She was lovely in her emerald gown, her smile radiant and alight with happiness for her dearest friend.

          Rumpelstiltskin's breath caught in his chest as Marcus led Belle to the end of the white runner and his eyes met hers. He didn't notice that the music changed or see their guests rise to their feet to pay their respects to the bride. He heard nothing but the rapid pounding of his heart in his ears as it thundered against his ribs. She was really there, walking steadily down the aisle on Marcus's arm, a trembling smile on her lips and the first hint of tears in her cerulean eyes. She was smiling at him … _him_ … the Dark One, the beast, and she was happy to be walking towards him, happy to join her life with his, come what may. He felt his own eyes stinging as he blinked the sensation away. He didn't need to be a blubbering fool and fall at her feet when she reached him. But Gods, it would take effort.

          Marcus slipped her hand into Rumpelstiltskin's as they reached him and kissed Belle on her cheek, honored to have taken her father's place on this momentous day. The only way Maurice would have walked Belle down the aisle … well, it wouldn't have happened. It would have been more likely to have fairies fly out of the king's arse.

          "Rumpel …" Belle breathed as she felt his warm fingers close securely around her own. She was overwhelmed with emotion, and she swallowed convulsively around the knot which formed in her throat. They'd made it. Everything they'd endured to be together … the letters, the stolen moments, the horrid courtship with her father looking over her shoulder, the poisoning and imprisonment … had all led up to this moment.

          He caught the tear which escaped her lashes with his thumb and cradled her cheek in his hand. "I know, my Belle, I feel it too," he whispered. "It was worth it to have you standing here with me now."

          They had eyes only for each other, and Tuck had to clear his throat twice before gaining their attention. "Friends, family … we are gathered here today to join the lives of Belle and Rumpelstiltskin in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate instituted of God. It is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, soberly and in all sincerity."

          Rumpelstiltskin could feel the sweat bead at the back of his neck as he waited to be struck by a bolt of lightning from the heavens. It was too good to be true. Good things just didn't happen for him. Something was going to come along to take it from him. Then he felt her … she squeezed his hand gently just as the panic was about to overwhelm him and he could feel her love, feel her golden magic seep into his fingertips and travel up his arm and into his chest to settle in the very center of his heart. The panic, the worry and the fear melted away, leaving nothing but Belle.

          "Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have chosen to speak their own vows. Rumpelstiltskin," Tuck said, giving the sorcerer the floor.

          He swallowed nervously, staring down into her luminous blue eyes. "My darling Belle, before you came into my life, I was what everyone said I was, a beast, a demon, a monster, but never a man. And then I was called to save you, and my life changed. I knew you would grow up to be my wife, but I never expected you to be my love. You became my light, chasing away the darkness and freeing my soul. You showed me love wasn't only possible, but desired. In three hundred years, I never valued anything more than power … until I was gifted with your heart. Your heart and your love are my greatest treasure, my Belle. In exchange I give you my love, my life and my body to be bound to you always."

          Belle brushed the tears from her eyes and leaned up on her toes, surprising him as she slipped her hand into his hair and pulled his head down to hers, sealing her lips to his. Jefferson coughed, Sarah snickered, and Tuck cleared his throat, hissing, "We haven't come to that part yet!"

          Jefferson tapped Rumpelstiltskin on the shoulder discreetly and the imp reluctantly broke off the impromptu kiss. "Love you," he whispered against her lips.

          "Love you more," she returned.

          Tuck was blushing furiously as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "And your vows, milady Belle."

          "Rumpelstiltskin, when I learned of our betrothal, I was so angry. I felt betrayed and bitter and I was frightened. But then you showed me your true self in the form of a letter … many letters … and I realized I had judged you by your reputation and not for who you really are." She lifted her hand and rested it over his heart. "You showed me the man, not a monster. You showed me what it is to have love, to share myself with someone who shares my hopes, my dreams and my passions. You are the most wonderful gift I have ever received, Rum. I give you my love, my life and my body to be bound to you always."

          Jefferson grabbed the back of Rumpelstiltskin's jacket and Sarah discreetly stepped on the train of Belle's gown to stop them from giving a repeat performance of their earlier kiss. Snow hid her smile behind her bouquet and Robin chortled loudly, earning a glare from Rumpelstiltskin. Friar Tuck cleared his throat once more and asked, "Is it also your wish today that your hands be fasted in the ways of old?"

          Belle and Rumpelstiltskin answered in unison. "It is." This was an important part of their ceremony, one where not only their lives but a good portion of their magics would be joined.

          Tuck held out his hand and Sarah placed two cords in it, one a sapphire blue silk to represent Belle and another braided cord made of the Dark One's golden thread to represent Rumpelstiltskin.

          He held the cords aloft. "Remember then as your hands are fasted, these are not the ties that bind … The role already taken by the song your hearts share shall now be strengthened by the vows you take. All things of the material world eventually return to the Earth unlike the bond and the connection your spirits share, which is destined to ascend to the heavens. May you be forever as one in the passion and fire of your joined hearts."

          Tuck took their left hands and joined them together, palms to wrists and reverently wrapped first the blue cord and then the gold. His eyes widened as both cords glowed a bright gold. Belle shivered as she felt their magics flow from one to the other in perfect harmony, signaling their approval of the joining of their lives.

          "Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have also chosen to give one another a token of their love in the form of rings," the friar said, taking the rings from Jefferson and holding them out to the couple.

          Belle took the simple golden band from the friar. Engraved along the inside of the band was _forever mine_. She'd used her magic to put the words there after he'd fashioned the band to her specifications. She slipped it onto his finger and said, "With this ring I pledge thee my troth. I give you this ring to wear as a sign of my unswerving faithfulness and devotion to you. As a ring has no end, neither shall my love for you. I  _choose_  you to be my husband this day and forevermore."

          Rumpelstiltskin took Belle's ring from the friar a sheepish grin on his face as she met his eyes.  _Please don't let me screw this up!_  he thought to himself as he began to slide the band onto her finger to rest against her betrothal ring. "With this ring, I pledge thee my troth. I give you this ring to w—"

          The entry doors crashed in under a heavy booted foot, the sound thunderous as it echoed into the Great Hall. "Rumpelstiltskin, show yourself!"

          "What in seven hells!" The Dark One bellowed angrily. Jefferson laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "I got this." The usually happy go lucky hatter wore a death glare reminiscent of the sorcerer's as he moved down the aisle towards the closed doors, Marcus and Robin falling into step behind him.

          "Rum, do you think we should see what that's all about?" Belle whispered, her curiosity at its peak.

          "We can't sweetheart, we need to finish this," he fretted, nodding at the glowing cords binding them together.

          "Ok," she agreed, smiling brightly. "You were saying?"

          "Um … I give you this ring to wear as a sign of my unswerving faithfulness and devotion to you. As a ring has no end, neither shall my love for you. I choose you to be my wife this day and forevermore," he vowed, placing a kiss to her knuckle.

          The sounds of fists meeting flesh could be heard through the thick wooden doors, but Belle did her best to ignore it. The friar looked as if he wanted to be out there, as well, to see what was going on.

          Tuck closed his bible and beamed at the couple. "You are now as your hearts have always known you to be, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!"

          The spinner fought the Dark One … the spinner won and drew Belle into his arms, his lips seeking hers. The Dark One could tear the shepherd to pieces in just a few moments if he wanted, but right now he had his lips pressed to his Belle's, molding, sliding and tasting his sweet bride and nothing could take precedence over that. She drew away from him all too soon, and then their guests were clapping and cheering, and congratulations rang throughout the hall.

          "I need to go deal with this, dearest."

          "I hope you don't think you're going to  _deal_ with this alone," she insisted stubbornly. Before he could answer, she turned to Sarah. "Sarah, dear, would you please show our guests to the ballroom where you've set out the food and refreshments?"

          "Damnit all, I have to miss everything!" she grumbled, stamping her foot. "Alright, folks, this way. Let's get this party started." Snow and Grumpy looked unsure, but eventually they turned to follow the small crowd of guests.

          Belle placed her hand in the crook of Rumpelstiltskin's arm and they walked together back down the aisle, the double doors opening automatically to let the master and mistress pass through. Belle bit her lip to stop the hysterical giggle from slipping past her lips. Rumpelstiltskin didn't have an ounce of restraint, giggling like a madman. Charming was laid out on the marble floor of the foyer, Jefferson sitting on his chest, rubbing at his sore jaw. Marcus was circling around them with his sword drawn, and Robin had Charming’s sword in his left hand, casually resting it against his shoulder as he stared down at the princeling.

          "Let him up, hatter," Rumpelstiltskin commanded as his giggles died down. "I'll let him have his say before I turn him into something nice and … squishable. Still dressing like a prince, I see. Even though you ran away from the life I gave you. How's that for gratitude?"

          Belle's brow furrowed as she stared at James … or who she thought was James. "But wasn't he always a prince? I've known him most of my life … though I never much cared for his arrogance. Bit full of himself, if you ask me."

          "No, dearest, that was his twin brother … James. This is David. James was killed about a month ago and I had to make another deal with George and … didn't I tell you about this deal? I could've sworn I had."

          "No, darling, you neglected to mention it," Belle said, giving him an indulgent smile.

          Charming heaved himself to his feet with a groan and glared at the Dark One. "Some life," the princeling scoffed. "You gave me a prison sentence."

          "Yeah, one that you've now skirted. Careful, dearie. King George is a vengeful man," he warned, now in full Dark One mode. Belle felt the darkness surge in him, but she held her tongue.

          Charming rubbed at his swelling jaw for a moment before saying, "I'm here about Snow. Word is, she's after the queen and she came to you for help."

          "She did indeed."

          Charming took a threatening step forward and Belle lifted her hand, sparks shooting from her fingertips. Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Not necessary, dear one."

          "What did you do to her?" the princeling asked in an infuriated hiss.

          The sorcerer's teeth curled back over his teeth as he snarled, "What did  _I_  do to her? No, no, no, dearie, what did  _you_  do to her?" He pointed an accusing finger at the prince. "You caused her pain. Without that pain, she would never have drunk my potion. To forget about  _you. That's_ what changed her."

          "Undo the potion. All magic can be broken."

          "You just interrupted the man's wedding and you expect him to help you now?" Jefferson asked incredulously.

          Marcus shook his head as if he'd never heard anything more galling. "Would you like me to show him the door, milord?"

          "This one's a might thick, if you ask me," Robin said.

          "And what would his help be worth to you?" Belle asked, glaring at the man.

          "Name your price," Charming said, tired of playing the game. He simply wanted to find Snow and didn't care what he had to pay in order to get the information he needed in order to find her.

          "How about your cloak?" the imp twittered, a devious grin on his face as he looked down at his bride.

          "My cloak? Why do you need my cloak?"

          "It's drafty in here," Rumpelstiltskin giggled. Belle bit her lip to stifle her laughter at her husband's antics.

          The princeling removed his cloak and tossed it onto the table which sat in the center of the foyer. Belle tilted her head to the side and smiled at the prince. "Do you love her? Or are you merely on a quest to save her to show everyone how heroic you are?"

          "I love her with all my heart. I've given up everything to be with her. I have to make her remember how much I truly love her," Charming said adamantly. His eyes softened.  “How much I _need_ her.”

          Belle looked up at her husband and he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Her memory has been restored … which you can thank my husband for … and she's here to celebrate our wedding. If you'll follow Marcus, he will show you to the ballroom where you will find her."

          Marcus, Robin and Jefferson led the prince from the room, leaving Belle alone with Rumpelstiltskin in the foyer. He slipped his arms about her waist, hauling her up against his chest. "Have I told you today how brilliant you are?"

          Belle tapped her index finger to her chin. "No, I don't believe so," she said, chuckling warmly as his lips met hers.

          "You are. Brilliant, beautiful, tempting, and devastating to my self-control."

          "And the cloak?" she queried, waving an dismissive hand towards the table. "Why do you need it?"

          "Just a theory I have, sweetheart." He magicked the garment up to his tower laboratory without releasing her. "Something for you and I to work on later."

          "I wish we didn't have to go to the party," she sighed, her lips pursing into a pout.

          "Sarah will have our hides if we don't make an appearance after all the work she put into it," he murmured against her lips, kissing the pout away as he trailed a blackened nail along the edge of her low bodice. "I promise we won't stay long. Just long enough for cake and dancing."

          Belle trailed her nails along his nape and smiled as he rumbled low in his chest. "I'll hold you to that, my husband."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Ok, I have some bad news … This is the last chapter I will be able to post for a week or so. I’m soooo sorry, but … last night I went to bed and everything was fine. This morning I get up, sit down at the computer and my flash drive (where I keep ALL my fandom docs and stories) was bent. I don’t know how it happened or what my boys did to it while I was sleeping (of course, the little bastards won’t tell me the truth) but I am unable to access my files. I rushed it to my computer specialist and he said he’s going to see what he can do. Pray for me! I don’t want to think of all my work lost forever.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: This chapter contains wedding night smut, so if that’s not your thing, skip the last part. Happy reading!

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin arched a brow in wary suspicion as he led Belle into the grand ballroom and they were met with a round of applause. His bride blushed prettily at the attention and gave a shy nod of her head to their guests. He followed her gaze as her cerulean eyes sought out one guest in particular, and she paused in their trek across the parquet floor to observe.

          Snow was conversing with Marian and Udele when the bride and groom entered the ballroom and she turned to greet them with the other guests, clapping softly and pasting a polite smile to her face. A smile which quickly faded from her lips as her eyes widened in disbelief. A pair of familiar blue eyes met hers across the room and her feet moved of their own accord, meeting him halfway.

          "Charming!" she gasped breathily as his arms went around her, crushing the air from her lungs as he clasped her to him.

          Several yards away, Sarah pressed a glass of champagne into the newlyweds' hands and rolled her eyes. "I suppose Snow's prince is our wedding crasher?" she asked dryly, scowling at the sandy-haired prince pressing kisses all over the bandit princess.

          "Yes, dearie, that's him. It looks like the groveling has commenced," he snarked, smirking at the prince.

          "Seems he's doing rather well," Belle nodded in satisfaction, hiding a grin behind the rim of her glass as she sipped at the bubbly beverage.

          "I swear, dearest, if I hear one blithering 'I will always find you' come out of his mouth, I'm booting him from the Dark Castle!"

          "I've got a rolling pin with his name written all over it. I'm still quite peeved he just barged into the castle in the middle of the ceremony," Sarah huffed, sipping her own champagne as Marcus slipped his arms about her waist and planted a sloppy kiss upon her bare shoulder. She leaned back into his embrace and sighed contentedly. "'Bout time you brought your sweet self over here, lummox."

          Marcus snorted and rested his chin atop her head, enjoying a quiet moment with his wife where she wasn't trying to thrash someone with her broom or lacerate a poor hapless soul with her acerbic tongue. "Apologies, sweetness."

          "Oh, gods, Rumpel, she's crying. What do you think he said to her?" Belle asked, setting her glass down on the table next to them.

          Rumpelstiltskin swung her into his arms and led her out onto the dance floor to the familiar strains of a waltz. He'd have to remember to thank Robin for providing the music. Who knew his merry men were musically inclined with the lyre, lute and mandolin? "I couldn't say, sweetheart, but you can rest assured it was some insipid platitude to win her back."

          She curled her hand over his nape, rubbing gently as she laughed softly. "Still so cynical after all we've been through. I would think you'd have a better view of true love by now."

          He dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips and held her closer as he led them expertly across the floor. "Oh, I do, darling, but that doesn't make David and Snow any less nauseating."

          She giggled and tucked her head beneath his chin, her ear pressed to his heart as they danced. Sarah and Marcus as well as Snow and Charming joined them, but the rest of their guests didn't stray from the edges of the dance floor, seemingly uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings. Centuries ago, in his humble village, Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't have felt comfortable either if put in such a situation. Belle looked up, trying to catch his gaze, finally having to tug at his hair to gain his attention.

          "What's wrong, Rumpel?"

          He winced. "I don't think our guests are comfortable here, my Belle. They seem a might out of place," he said, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. "Would you object if I gave us a change of scenery?"

          She nibbled thoughtfully at her lower lip, thinking she might know what he had in mind. "Not at all," she replied, gesturing with her hand to the room at large.

          He released her and flourished both of his hands in a grand gesture. The room transformed with a shimmer as the glamour took hold, the gleaming walls with their covered mirrors, the cherub painted ceiling and the polished parquet floor disappearing to be replaced with a grassy forest floor and the smell of pine as trees sprouted up about the room into the clear night sky sparkling with stars above. His guests murmured nervously about the room, but the sorcerer merely bowed to his bride and led her into another dance, this time to a lively tune about the bonfire that crackled merrily in the center of the clearing.

          Robin grabbed his wife's hand and swung her into his arms, following the imp's lead. Sarah's hazel eyes sparkled as she grabbed up her skirts in one hand and Marcus's arm in the other and joined in. Rumpelstiltskin reveled in his bride's laughter as they danced about the fire with their friends … something he had never had before loving his Belle.

          Finally, breathless, Belle urged him away from the revelers, so she could rest her aching feet. He led her over to a corner where a rather large swing awaited them. It was covered in soft green boughs and gave them a clear view of the room to observe when they weren't partaking in the festivities. He settled her on the swing and left her, returning in a short time with a plate of supper for them to share and two mugs of mead to drink. There was roasted lamb, smoked ham, boiled potatoes, fresh sweet corn, greens and a host of other things for them to feast upon. It was what Sarah liked to call peasant fare, but to Belle it tasted better than the finest meal prepared for her father's table in Avonlea, seasoned with love and friendship of those sharing their special day.

          "Is this what our wedding feast would have been like had we married in your village?" she asked, drinking deeply from her cup.

          "No, sweetheart, not even close. Had we married there, you would have been looked upon with pity because you were marrying the village coward," he sneered.

          Belle swatted him sharply on the arm. "That isn't what I meant, Rumpelstiltskin, and you know it," she scolded. "I meant —"

          "I know," he answered grudgingly. "I suppose it would have been similar to this. We don't celebrate with all the pomp and ceremony the nobles do. If we had married in my village, it would have indeed been much like this if …"

          "Don't you say it!" she warned. "You're not a coward, darling, and I'll not have you belittling yourself on our wedding day." She set the plate aside and nestled closely into his side, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him softly.

          He set the swing in motion with a bit of magic to keep it moving and lost himself to her kisses, blocking out everything aside from the gentle to and fro of the swing and the way his bride was pressed so sweetly against him. He was reluctant to deepen the kiss, seeing as they were not alone, and he was thankful for it when he heard the clearing of a throat next to them. He reluctantly drew away from his bride's tempting lips and glared at the interloper.

          "What is it, dearie? I'm sure it must be important since you are intent on causing one interruption after another," the sorcerer sneered at the princeling.

          "Be nice, Rumpel," Belle chided softly near his ear and some of the tension left him.

          Charming glanced down at Snow, hovering at his elbow, and scowled. She raised one dark ebony brow and gave him a pointed look to which he sighed with resignation. "I would like to apologize for interrupting your wedding," he said grudgingly. He grunted when Snow poked him in the ribs with a sharp nail. "And for accusing you of trying to purposely hurt Snow with the potion," he added through clenched teeth.

          "And?" Snow whispered.

          Charming winced as he met her wide emerald gaze, his own blue eyes pleading with her to end his misery. She lifted her brows and mouthed, "Do it!" He sighed and steeled himself for the imp's mocking laughter.

          "I would also like to thank you for restoring Snow to her former self and leading me to her," he said, the words sounding forced even to his own ears.

          That manic impish giggle burst past his lips before he could stop it as he stared at the princeling, amusement dancing in his warm amber eyes. "Oh, don't thank me, shepherd; thank my lovely bride. It was she who discovered the way to bring her back."

          Belle rose and embraced Snow. "Nonsense. We were happy to help her, and I gained a new friend in the process," she beamed happily. "And you really must stay the night. We've more room than we know what to do with and I'm certain you'd be comfortable in the south wing. The castle is enchanted so you only need ask if there's anything you might need."

          "We couldn't possibly —" Charming began, but Snow's pointy little heels coming down on his instep cut him short.

          "We'd love to, Belle, thank you," Snow graciously accepted.

          Belle turned back to her new husband and cast him a bright smile. "Darling, I want cake. I think it's time we cut that fabulous confection Sarah made for us, don't you?"

          Rumpelstiltskin hadn't missed Snow chastising her prince and smirked at Charming as he rose and offered Belle his arm. They left the royals behind and moved to the table holding the three-tiered wedding cake Sarah had thankfully saved from burning. It was a delicate white cake with buttercream frosting and delicate white roses. Simple yet elegant to go along with the theme the bride and groom had chosen. Belle cut into the cake and laid the piece onto the plate her husband held out to her, her fingers covered in the sweet frosting.

          Before she could reach for a linen napkin to clean her hand, Rumpelstiltskin grasped her wrist and drew her fingers to his lips, his tongue rasping out to lick the sugary frosting from her fingertips. She gasped, a heated blush rising in her face and it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the desire he awakened in her. He let go of her hand and picked up the fork, cutting into their slice of cake and offering her a bite.

          "How clumsy of me, dearest," he murmured, gesturing to the bit of frosting at the corner of her mouth. His arm slipped about her waist as he pulled her to him and took her lips in a hungry kiss, removing all evidence of cake from her rosebud mouth.

          "Hmm," she breathed, her heart thundering against her ribs. "I think you did that on purpose."

          "Perhaps," he retorted, his lips curving into an impish grin.

          Belle took the fork from him and slid a bite of the cake between his smiling lips. "Oops! Your clumsiness must be rubbing off on me, darling," she teased, closing the distance between them and kissing him, unsure which she enjoyed more; the sweetness of the cake or the taste of her husband's lips.

          "Alright, you two, break it up! There are children in this room," Sarah admonished, a playful smile on her lips. "I can see this party is coming to an end early."

          "Well it has been a long day," Rumpelstiltskin offered, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What with restoring the princess, hunting down the friar and fighting off an angry mob … all before the wedding and reception … I'd say we were due for a bit of … sleep."

          Sarah snorted. "Sleep … sure. Come along, love," she said, taking Belle's hand in hers. "Let's see about getting you changed, shall we?" Belle was able to give her husband one last kiss before Sarah dragged her away, leaving him standing there to finish his cake alone.

          Robin and Jefferson laughed at the forlorn expression on the imp's face as his bride disappeared through the trees and back into the castle away from the glamoured ballroom. "You look like someone just died, Rum," Jefferson drawled, clapping him on the back.

          "Oh, come now, old man, you'll be reunited with her shortly," Robin told him, picking over the trays on the buffet table and popping a cream puff into his mouth, grinning wickedly.

          Rumpelstiltskin glowered at the outlaw and took another bite of cake. For some reason it didn't taste quite as good without Belle to share it with. "You're more than welcome to stay here tonight, Hood. There's no sense trying to trek down the mountain at this hour. We have plenty of guest rooms or if you'd rather bed down in here …" he said grudgingly, trying to be hospitable when it went against his nature. But they had come all this way to share the day with him and Belle. It would be rude to boot them out into the snow. And his Belle would be less than pleased.

          "You're sure it wouldn't be an imposition?" the outlaw asked, his brows disappearing somewhere near his hairline.

          "Would you like me to change my mind?" Rumpelstiltskin growled.

          Robin put up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "No, no, not at all. We are grateful for your hospitality. I have to say it's been one of the most interesting weddings I've ever been invited to," he replied, a wide grin on his lips. With a bow, he left Jefferson chuckling at the sorcerer and went to find his wife and son to tell them they'd be staying the night in the Dark Castle.

          Jefferson drank heavily from the goblet of mead in his hand and quirked a brow. "Interesting friends you've acquired, Rum."

          Rumpelstiltskin gaped at the hatter. "I wouldn't exactly call them friends."

          "Call them what you like, but they're your friends whether you wish it or not. I can just imagine what dear Regina will say when she learns of your nuptials. Do you think she will feel slighted she wasn't invited?" Jefferson asked in a dry tone.

          Rumpelstiltskin huffed a laugh and set his empty plate down on the table where it disappeared, sent to the kitchen by magic to be washed. "I would think after she gets over the shock, she'll feel a bit put out. And gods forbid should she find out Snow and Charming were in attendance."

"Oooh, her rage will be magnificent," Jefferson sighed, a hand placed dramatically over his heart. "I do hope I'm here for the show."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Are you alright, Belle? You look terrified," Sarah frowned worriedly as she brushed out Belle's chestnut curls until they gleamed in the soft light of her bedroom.

          Belle took a deep breath and smiled tremulously at her friend. "I'm fine, Sarah."

          "Belle, it's only natural to be nervous on your wedding night."

          "I'm not nervous. Rumpel is nothing like the nobles I was surrounded by growing up. He's gentle and sweet and he loves me. He'd never hurt me," Belle explained, confident she spoke the truth. She was looking forward to joining with her husband. It was the other aspect of their joining which was making her tremble like a leaf in a brisk wind. She would be completely joined with him … heart, life, and body … an immortal being bound by magic … and she was terrified of the unknown.

          Sarah set the brush aside on the vanity and put her hands on Belle's shoulders, offering her strength to her friend. "It's just wedding night jitters. You'll be fine. And you look so beautiful, you'll take the imp's breath away."

          "You really think so?" Belle asked, looking down at the gold silk nightgown she wore. It had been one of the many things in her wardrobe Rumpelstiltskin had provided for her and she couldn't think of anything more perfect than to be draped in his colors on their wedding night. The silk hugged her petite frame, held up with tiny straps, little crimson roses adorning the bodice and hem and dipping low in the back.

          "I do, love. You're simply glowing with happiness. How could he not think you beautiful?"

          Belle rose from her vanity and hugged her friend. "Thank you, Sarah, for everything you've done for me. Not just today, but always. You've never failed to stand by me and coming here with me and Rumpel … you don't know how much that means to me," she murmured, her voice choked with tears. "I just wanted you to know. I love you, Sarah."

          Sarah wrapped her arms around Belle and choked back a sob. "Hey, no tears, ok? I love you, too. I couldn't love you more if you were my own sister. All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Belle. I'm so glad the imp brings you such joy." She wiped the tears from Belle's cheeks and smiled through her own. "Now, go to him, love him. I fear he needs your love just as much as you need his." She kissed her friend's brow and walked to the door which led out into the corridor. "Be happy."

          Belle squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, moving to the door which led into the bathing chamber separating her room from Rumpelstiltskin's. "Time to be brave, Belle," she told herself. She'd never let fear rule her life before and she wasn't about to start now. She crossed the marble floor of the room, her bare feet silent on the cool tiles and paused with her hand on the door handle. Her husband waited for her on the other side of that door. She could feel him through their bond and it brought her comfort he was just as nervous as she was.

          Rumpelstiltskin stood before the hearth, staring down into the flames, a goblet of mead clasped in his hand. He'd removed his boots and curled his toes into the soft sheepskin rug before the roaring fire as he waited for her, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He'd also removed his jacket and vest and his white shirt had been untucked from his leather breeches and unbuttoned. He should have been more than comfortable, but he felt as if he were confined, stifled in his own skin. It had been years since he'd felt so nervous and even the mead in his goblet couldn't soothe him.

          He felt her before he turned to see her. Since she'd come to the Dark Castle he could always feel her, their bond having strengthened as she'd given her magic free rein, no longer restraining it. Silently she moved to his side in a whisper of silk and slipped her arms about his waist.

          He set the goblet on the mantle and returned her embrace, resting his cheek atop the crown of her head. "What are you thinking about so hard, Rumpel?" she asked, holding tightly to him.

          "Bae should have been here today to share in our happiness," he answered without hesitation. He could hide nothing from her, not even his innermost troubling thoughts.

          "Soon, darling, I promise," she vowed. "I wish Papa could have been here as well, but he's made it more than clear he wants no part of our union," she retorted, bitterness creeping into her tone.

          "We'll find a way to make it right with him, sweetheart. If that is what you wish," he said softly, his fingertips tracing the curve of her spine.

          "Right now, all I want is you," she whispered, trailing her hands up his bare chest, pushing his shirt off his shoulders to puddle about their feet. "Shh," she shushed him when he made a noise of protest. "Let me see you."

          Only the light of the fire illuminated the room. He'd hesitated to light the candles about the room to spare her having to gaze upon the beast he was. "Belle, you shouldn't have to …"

          "You're beautiful, Rumpel. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," she crooned, spreading her hands out over his bare chest and over his shoulders until she could twine her arms around his neck. “And it’s not as though I haven’t seen you like this before.”  His hands fisted in the silk covering her hips as she pulled his head down to meet her lips, the only sign of his tightly restrained control as he yielded to the heat of her mouth.

          Lust, passion and desire raged through him as he pulled her hips flush with him, his arousal evident where it pressed against her belly as he plundered her mouth, his tongue searching out all the places he knew brought her pleasure. He swallowed down the moan which flowed from her throat and he reveled in the pleasure he found in her hands tightening almost painfully in his hair. Fire coursed through his veins and he had to fight back the surge of lust which raced to his cock as she nipped lightly at his lower lip. They hadn't even begun, hadn't even made it to the bed and he was ready to lose all semblance of control like an adolescent schoolboy. He refused to take her like the beast he was purported to be and ruin this for her.

          She groaned in protest as he pulled away from her and rested his brow to hers. His eyes were blown wide with desire and he looked to be in pain, his breath coming in sharp pants just as hers was. He cradled her face in his palms, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks. "You'll tell me if I do something you don't like."

          She nodded, too overcome to speak.

          "Don't let me hurt you, my Belle. Promise me," he breathed against her lips as he kissed her gently. "Promise."

          "I promise." She would have promised him anything at that moment, just so long as he didn't stop making her feel the delicious heat curling through her and pooling in her belly. He swung her up into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed, laying her gently upon the silk coverlet. He followed her down, stretching out at her side and pulling her into the circle of his arms, his lips trailing a line of fire along her jaw to her ear.

          She gasped as the hand he'd had resting on her hip moved slowly up her side and settled on her silk clad breast. She was beginning to think she should have come to him completely naked. She didn't want anything separating them, even the thin fabric of her nightgown. She wanted to feel her bare skin pressed to his and with a thought the silk nightgown vanished in a puff of crimson smoke to land on the floor, leaving her bared before him.

          "Belle!"

          "Sorry, did I do something wrong?" she breathed, her breath catching as the heat of his hand encountered her bare skin.

          "You're going to be the death of me, woman," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing her in, his teeth scraping sharply against her before he sucked her flesh into his mouth, his thumb brushing lightly over her nipple until it formed into a hard pebble. She whimpered slightly as the sensation spiraled through her and settled in the apex of her thighs. The wonderful pressure only he could make her feel was building and spreading through her and she could only think she never wanted it to end. She hooked her leg over his hip and trailed her nails over his flat stomach, the muscles rippling and tightening under her fingertips as his lips moved over her throat, her collarbone, and across her chest, nipping, biting, and suckling.

          He cupped her mound, his finger lightly trailing over her slit as his mouth drew her nipple into his hot mouth. She tensed at the new sensation of his hand where no one had ever touched her before. Her nails bit sharply into his shoulders and he stopped, his hands and mouth stilling upon her as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

          "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, praying she'd let him continue. "You're trembling. Are you frightened?" He smoothed his hand over her thigh from knee to hip and back again, trying to soothe her.

          Belle shook her head. "No, don't stop. You just … surprised me, is all," she admitted, her face flaming.

          He held her gaze as his tongue rasped once more over her nipple before his lips closed over it and drew it into his mouth. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the pleasure spreading through her, her hands delving into his soft locks and holding him to her. She tasted like honey and magic and something uniquely Belle and he was consumed with her. Nothing mattered aside from the precious girl in his arms and the pleasure he could bring her.

          His questing mouth trailed over the soft flesh of her belly and lower, coaxing little gasps from his bride. She nearly bucked him off of her when his nose nuzzled the curls between her thighs. "W-What are you doing?" she gasped, sitting up, her eyes wide and incredulous.

          The arm he had about her hips wouldn't let her retreat, pulling her closer as he looked up at her. "Relax, sweetheart. Just let me make you feel good." Ever the inquisitive little minx, his wife. "If you don't like it, simply tell me to stop," he coaxed further. "Let me taste you, my Belle."

          Belle forced herself to relax back against the pillows and fisted her hands in the sheets at her sides, hating that she sounded like a squeamish little virgin on her wedding night. She trusted him with everything she was or would ever be and knew there was no excuse for her to be doubting him now. She'd been brave enough to coax him into the tub with her to avoid just such a situation as this. She couldn't let her courage desert her now. She blushed as he inhaled deeply and had to fight the urge to bury her face beneath her pillow.

          "Relax, love. You're wound tighter than a bow string," he teased, pressing soft kisses to the top of her thighs. "Trust me."

          "I-I do," she whispered. She cried out softly as he parted her folds with one long finger. She cracked one eye open and peered down at the positively wicked smile upon his lips and groaned. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was purposely torturing her because the anticipation was killing her.

          He stretched out on the bed between her legs and wrapped his hands around her thighs, holding her still as his tongue rasped against her folds. Moaning at the taste of her, he thrust his hips against the mattress, anything to relieve the pressure building in his groin. His tongue circled around her clit and her back arched off the bed, his name spilling from her lips. He dipped his finger past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, a low rumble of pleasure sounding deep in his throat as he felt her tight wet walls close around it. So tight, so wet and all because of him. The beast within him howled in delight that he'd brought her to such a state and it was a test to his self-control that he didn't spill himself there and then in his leathers.

          "Rumpel!" she cried, her hands tugging painfully at his hair, her eyes nearly black with desire and her mouth open in a silent scream as she came undone beneath the onslaught of his mouth. His hands stroked her sides lightly, soothing her as he crawled back up the bed to lie beside her, his lips claiming hers in a kiss of barely restrained hunger.

          Belle's hands ghosted over his back and she groaned as they encountered his leather clad arse. "Gods, I'm never going to be able to peel you out of these," she huffed in irritation, reaching around to pull at the laces. Just as she'd banished her nightgown, she used her magic to rid him of the confining leather. He gasped as her hand wrapped around his turgid length and he took her wrist in a firm grip, moving her hand to rest on the pillow beside her head.

          "Not a good idea to touch me right now, dearest," he managed to say, the muscle twitching in his jaw as he ground his teeth together.

          "But I want to," she protested, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot just beneath his left ear.

          "Later. I want to make this good for you," he panted, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as the heat of her core met his engorged member. He bit down on his lip as he reached down and lined them up, wrapping his other around her waist in a firm grip. "Hold onto me," he murmured against her lips, as he slowly eased into her. He wasn't able to hold back the whimper which escaped his lips as the head of his cock slipped into her to be enveloped by her heat. He watched her closely for any sign she wanted him to stop. "Alright?"

          She nodded jerkily, trying to relax beneath him as she clung to his shoulders, willing the tension to leave her muscles and accept him. She gasped as he came up against her virgin barrier and she wished more than anything he would finish it, that he would take it and relieve her of the fear which assaulted her. "Please," she whimpered, her lower lip trembling, pleading with him.

          Rumpelstiltskin cradled her face in his hands and lowered his lips to hers, his tongue delving into the honeyed recesses of her mouth as he thrust his hips forward, filling her and swallowing down her cry of pain. Her nails dug sharply into his flesh as she clasped him to her and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He sighed with relief when he felt the tension begin to ease from her body.

          Belle gasped as she tentatively moved against him, reveling in the feeling of him sliding deeper into her, filling her, his groin pressed flush with hers. Nothing she had ever read or overheard from the maids in her father's castle could have prepared her for the pleasure of being completely joined with her husband. And then she had to contend with the magic.

          She felt as though her magic were seeping from every pore on her body as he withdrew gently from her and then thrust forward with a gentle snap of his hips. She lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly about his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back. The pressure and pleasure built within her as he thrust into her, moving with her, gliding within her in the age-old dance of desire, the pleasure stealing her breath, pulling her deeper under its thrall. She was a slave to her passion for the man in her arms, her husband and she never wanted it to end. She gasped as she felt tendrils of his magic creep into her, wrapping itself around her heart and merging with her own.

          He lost rhythm with her, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic as her walls fluttered around him, her arms tightening around his shoulders as she cried out and fell over the precipice into ecstasy, dragging him along with her. Golden tendrils of magic shivered up his spine, leaving him weak with the power of her essence. She was his, fully and truly and the knowledge that she would belong to him forever left him breathless as he felt her take hold of his heart and bind herself to him.

          She held on tighter when he would have rolled to her side. "No, stay with me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't leave me yet."

          He braced himself on his elbows and gazed down at the woman who'd been brave enough to love the beast. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, pressing soft kisses to her brow, her eyes, her nose and finally her lips.

          "No," she assured him, a smile curving her lips as he rolled to her side and pulled her against his chest. She laid her ear over his heart and let the rapid beat lull her into the first tug of slumber.

          He reached down and pulled the coverlet over them, giving himself over to the exhaustion which washed over him. It might have been one hell of a day, but the night couldn't have been more perfect and now she was his … forever.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I’m so excited my computer guy was able to retrieve all my files and transfer them to a new drive!! So, yes, I’m finally back. Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments you've left on this story. I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter. Before I post the next chapter, I encourage you to take note of the tags for this story because for some, chapters 24, 25 & 26 are not going to be easy to read. I’m not going to apologize, however, because this is the story I wanted to tell. I will understand if you don’t choose to continue reading, and my heartfelt appreciation goes out to everyone for your support thus far. xoxo


	24. Chapter 24

 

          Rumpelstiltskin groaned and rolled over as the morning light penetrated the heavy curtains along the wall next to the bed. Belle sighed and shifted at his side, throwing her slender leg over both of his under the heavy duvet covering them. With a twitch of his long spinner's fingers, the curtains closed and blocked out the light shining in his eyes. He would have to speak with his little bride about the importance of closed window adornments … especially when he was trying to sleep. He nuzzled his nose against his wife's chestnut curls spread over the pillows and smiled as memories of the previous evening flooded his mind. Now he couldn't go back to sleep, was, in fact, very much awake.

          And odd. Why did he feel so strange? Almost light. He concentrated for a long moment, trying to pinpoint the feelings which so disturbed him. The demon … the Dark One. For the first time since he'd taken on the curse, the voice was silent. It was still there, he knew this for a fact, because he could feel the darkness … but the voice, for once, wasn't constantly whispering its twisted evil in his ear. He'd taken a part of Belle's light into him last night when they'd completed the final step of their joining, just as he'd felt some of his own darkness seep into her. But how could so little of her light have brought him such peace, an end to the torture he'd suffered daily for centuries?

          "It's too early for you to be frowning so deeply. What are you thinking about?" his wife murmured against his shoulder, her cerulean eyes heavily-lidded with the last remnants of sleep. His breath hissed out softly as her fingertips trailed over his bare stomach, her touch igniting fire in his lower extremities. He rolled with her and sought her lips, kissing her hungrily. She returned it with equal fervor, sliding her leg up and over his hip, using her heel to pull him tightly against her, his hardness pressing into her hip as she wrapped her arms around him.

          "Just thinking about how happy I am, sweetheart," he said, nibbling gently at her lower lip.

          "You're happy … but you're frowning?" she chuckled and reached up to brush his mussed hair away from his eyes. He leaned into her touch and dropped a kiss to her palm, her hand cool against his heated skin.

          He ignored her question, a lazy grin curling the left side of his mouth as he propped himself up on an elbow. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his gaze searching her features for the slightest change and finding none.

          She moved against him, taking stock of her limbs and found she felt fine aside from a minute tenderness between her legs which was nothing more than she had expected. "I feel very well, Rumpel … content," she teased, watching his brow arch and his eyes narrow. "A bit hungry," she continued, tapping a finger to her chin. His fingers skimmed over her bare ribs, eliciting a giggle from her. "And … and … Rum, stop!"

          "And what, dearie?!" he hugged, a challenging glint in his warm amber eyes as he continued to tickle her.

          In retaliation, she pressed her hand over his heart and shot a jolt of her magic through him, her love curling and pulsing through him until his eyes dilated and his lips parted on a gasp. It was nothing like she'd done before. She didn't need him drunk on her magic before they'd even started the day, but a small taste wouldn't hurt. She trailed her lips over the smooth line of his jaw, stifling a giggle as she heard that purring sound rumbling deep in his chest. "And I'm deliriously happy, darling."

          "Aye, as am I, sweetheart." Rumpelstiltskin pulled on the duvet which had gotten trapped beneath her in their tussle and bumped the night table on her side of the bed as he freed her from it. A heavy thud sounded as whatever was on the table was knocked to the floor. His smile faded as he leaned far over to retrieve whatever he'd knocked over and his hand closed over the hilt of his dagger. He felt as though he'd been doused in ice water, all hint of his previous desire fading as he stared at the wavy blade in his hand.

          "Belle, how did this get here? I had it locked in the vault … you know I did," he glowered, the muscle ticking in his jaw as he stared at the hated talisman.

          "I didn't take it, Rum," she insisted, running her fingers along the blade. She gasped as magic leapt under her fingertips and she swallowed nervously around the lump in her throat as her eyes flew up to meet her husband's. "Rumpel …"

          She couldn't snatch the blade away from him before he could turn it in his hands. For the first time since she'd known him, she felt fear. He stared in confusion at the name etched into the blade for all of five seconds before he was blinded with rage. He could feel the power of the blade and … it didn't belong to him. His beloved's name was staring back at him in bold black letters … the dagger smaller in size than his own, but otherwise identical.

          Belle shrank back against the pillows and pulled her knees up to her chest, lowering her gaze so she wouldn't have to look into the coldness of his eyes as he asked, "What the hell is this?" in a deadly whisper.

          "I can e-explain," she stammered. She had hoped she'd have more time to broach the subject with him … maybe years if she could manage it … not the very morning after they'd wed.

          When she didn't immediately answer, he barked, "Well!?"

          "My price …"

          The color drained from his face, leaving the gold of his skin to contrast sharply with the green. "What. Price?" he hissed furiously.

          "The price for my immortality. The price for binding myself to you." Belle worried her lower lip fretfully as she waited for him to say something.

          He retrieved his pants from the floor and pulled them on one-handed, waving the dagger before him. "I want a complete and detailed explanation for this, wife! And I think I'm well within my rights to DEMAND it!"

          Belle's cerulean eyes widened incredulously as the words began to spill unbidden from her lips, the thrall of the dagger in her husband's hands loosening her tongue whether she wished it or not. "Just as you took part of my light, I took on a part of your curse … your darkness. My dagger binds me just as yours does you. It was the price of my immortality, so I would be with you always." She lifted her chin stubbornly and met his angry gaze. "One which I have happily paid."

          "You knew," he accused her. "You knew what would happen?"

          "Yes, I knew."

          "And yet you didn't think it was important enough to share with me?" he fumed, pacing back and forth on the rug beside the bed. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

          She winced and clasped her knees more tightly against her chest. "You would have sent me away from you. If you had known I had to take on a part of your curse, you would have broken our betrothal and sent me back to my father." He opened his mouth to argue, but she forestalled him with a raised hand, her eyes narrowing. "And don't you dare try to deny it."

          He practically vibrated, so great was his rage. "Winter! She did this. She manipulated us until she was able to convince you to —"

          "Yes, it was in the journal. It was written in clear and concise words so that I knew exactly what I was undertaking. But, Rumpel, it was my choice! My fate! My heart!"

          He was torn between rage and sorrow as he tucked her dagger into the waistband of his pants and snatched up his shirt where it had been discarded on the hearth rug the night before, thrusting his arms into the sleeves. He didn't even bother with his boots, using magic to don them. "No, Belle, this concerned me, too. You promised to be honest with me, to withhold nothing from me and then on the day of our wedding, mind you, you choose to break it," he snarled.

          "Rumpel, please. I'm sorry, but I couldn't take the chance you'd push me away in order to save me." She crawled off the bed, pulling the duvet with her and wrapping it around her. She stopped inches from him when he held up his hands, his index fingers pointing outward to ward her off. Tears sprang up to burn her eyes as she let her hand fall to her side. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said, her lower lip trembling. “But I’m _not_ sorry I’m yours.”

          He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair next to the hearth and strode purposefully to the door.

          "Where are you going? We need to talk about this!" she cried, brushing angrily at her eyes and the tears threatening to spill from her lashes.

          "To get answers, dearie," he said in the high-pitched tone of the imp, reveling as he watched her flinch at the hated  _dearie_. He was all too aware of how she despised it. He felt cold inside as her betrayal swept over him. How could she not trust him enough to tell him the truth about their binding? And as the darkness sought to smother out her light within him, he could hear the dark voice in the back of his mind howling with laughter and calling him ten kinds of fool for trusting her. "Don't fret, wife. I'll return soon with the answers I seek, and then we'll discuss a fitting punishment for your treachery." He removed the dagger from his waistband and caressed the blade, a smirk lifting one side of his mouth. "You are to remain here … in this room … until I return."

          Belle bowed her head, submissive before him, grinding her teeth in vexation as the dagger's power forced her to submit to her master's will.

          "Didn't catch that," he snickered, holding a hand up to his ear, deliberately being an ass to show her what it was she'd willingly taken upon herself, knowing if another held her dagger they wouldn't be quite so nice. "What did you say, dearie?"

          "As you wish," she hissed, an angry blush rising to stain her cheeks.

          "As you wish, what?"

          "As you wish … _master_."

          Rumpelstiltskin left the room before he tossed the dagger beneath the bed, out of his reach, and gathered her into his arms to assure her he would fix this … somehow. He could feel her pain … pain she suffered over her betrayal, and it nearly brought him to his knees. As all-consuming as his anger for her was, his love was greater. It would have been easier for him to cut off his right arm than send her away as she'd feared. Why hadn't she come to him and shared her fear with him instead of suffering alone? He couldn't allow her to bear the burden of his curse, no matter how small that part may be. It was _his_ to bear, not hers. He couldn't allow it to taint her soul as it had nearly destroyed his own. And that meddlesome little enchantress had been the bane of his existence for far too long. This time she'd have her own price to pay.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Milord!" Sarah gasped as Rumpelstiltskin strode into the foyer, never having seen him in such a state of undress since he'd been poisoned. He never left his bedroom without being attired in the height of fashion which prevailed in the realm, not once since she'd come to live at the Dark Castle.

          "Your mistress is confined to her room until I return, Sarah. See to the guests and make my apologies, would you?" he asked.

          "Going somewhere or avoiding people you have no wish to speak with?" she asked, one dark brow arched in his direction as she tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to explain.

          "Not that it's any of your business, dearie, but I have to see someone who owes me some answers," he snarled at her, his lips drawn back over his ruined teeth and his eyes flashing angrily.

          "Hmm. Might want to button up that shirt there, Imp, before you catch cold," she huffed. He frowned curiously at her until she gestured to his flapping shirttails. He glanced down and made a rather unmanly squeak as he gripped the edges of his shirt and pulled it closed over his chest. She stifled a snicker and asked, "May I see to her while you're gone, at least?"

          "You may bring her tea … nothing else. She can wait to breakfast with me when I return. Hopefully, the castle will be blessedly empty when I do." With that parting remark, he pulled his dragon hide jacket on and disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

          "Well, hell!" Sarah cursed and set off in the direction of the kitchen where their guests were enjoying a bowl of porridge before departing. She'd make tea for Belle and see if she couldn't find out how everything had gone to hell.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Ahhhh!" Winter shrieked, ducking behind the oversized chair at the head of her dining table as she avoided another fireball from the enraged sorcerer. "Rumpel!"

          "Don't you  _Rumpel_  me, you treacherous harpy!" A vicious smirk curled the corner of his mouth as he sent a pulse of raw energy at her and the chair exploded, leaving her exposed.

          Winter ignored the splinters of wood which littered the lavender fabric of her gown and held up a hand to ward him off. She didn't want to have to use magic against him, afraid she might hurt him, and his little bride would be less than pleased if he came home to her with injuries. "Would you please tell me what this is about?"

          It wasn't the first time he'd journeyed to her small keep on an icy crag in the mountains of the Northern kingdom where she liked to hide herself away from the world. Nor was it the first time he'd tried to take his anger out on her. "You manipulated my girl into taking on part of my curse! YOU CURSED HER!" he bellowed, the sound reverberating off the stone walls with such force that grainy chips of rubble floated down on them from the high ceilings.

          "I did no such thing," she protested, disappearing momentarily before her voice sounded again from behind the safety of a sturdy suit of armor. "It was necessary to bind her to you, Rumpel. It was her _choice_."

          His sharp hearing tracked her progress around the room as she would remain behind one thing for only a few seconds before moving on to another, thinking her tactics would keep her safe from his wrath. When she materialized behind a large ornate full-length mirror, he was waiting for her, his hand closing around her throat as he slammed her into the stone wall, the tapestry saving her from being cut by the rough stone. Her eyes widened as his talon-like nails bit into her throat, and she raised her hands to his chest, a pulse of pure white light blasting him backward, sending him crashing into the mirror.

          He shook his head to clear it as he picked himself up from the remains of the mirror, avoiding the silvery shards of glass beneath his hands. "Why? Why did you do it?" he asked, stalking her lithely as she moved well out of his reach.

          "It was supposed to be me!" she cried, giving up the game and squaring her shoulders. She didn't flinch when he stopped inches before her and stared at her incredulously. "My name was supposed to be on that dagger."

          "What?"

          "It is what the all-father had originally intended when the Dark One's dagger was forged. There were two … one for the Dark One and one for his true mate. I was supposed to be that mate, but I couldn't bind myself to the demon," she said dejectedly. She repaired her chair at the head of the table with a snap of her fingers and dropped into it, unable to meet his eyes.

          He pulled another chair out and settled into it, propping his feet on the table and steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he narrowed his eyes on her. "Why? If that was what you were commanded to do, why couldn't you do it?" he asked, his tone icy.

          "I couldn't, Rumpel. They were all so horrible. You don't know the extent of their evil. The demon was bound to the first Dark One, the man's soul just as rotten and corrupted as the demon who possessed him. Each one thereafter, just as bad, each one taking on the curse to aid their own selfish needs for power, lust and greed. Until you. You took on the curse for the most noble of reasons … to save someone you loved."

          Rumpelstiltskin sneered at her, his lips curling back over his ruined teeth. "Yes, yes, yes, I've heard this before. I —"

          "Wasn't finished!" Winter hissed. "Do you want to hear this or not?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "You, I would have happily bound myself to, but then you lost your boy and what shred of humanity and compassion which still existed within you. You stopped fighting the demon and let him have control of you."

          "I had to do what I could to find Baelfire," he insisted.

          "There were other ways, other paths, but instead you let the Dark One torture and maim and kill, destroying your soul in the process. So once again my dagger remained useless. My light, my power, wasn't strong enough to withstand being bound to you. I begged the all-father to release me, but he was steadfast in his refusal. I had to suffer through two centuries of watching you nearly destroy yourself before the vision of Belle came to me. For the first time, I knew there was hope for you. She could fulfill my dreams for you … where I could not. She would  _choose_ you, Rumpelstiltskin."

          He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off the tiny pick axes steadily pounding behind his eyes. "She doesn't deserve to be cursed, bound to that bloody dagger and a slave to its thrall."

          Winter reached out and laid a comforting hand on his arm, surprised when he didn't pull away from her. "Rumpel, she chose you, darling. Just as you took in her light, so she had to take on a part of your curse. Balance. You ground one another. If you live till the realms all turn to dust, you will never have anyone love you as she does. Accept it and be happy. The dagger which now bears her name is the price for her immortality, the price she  _chose_  to pay so she would never be separated from you."

          "You just don't get it, Winter," he snapped, bounding to his feet. He pressed his palms flat against the table and brought his face close to hers as he hissed threateningly, "If someone should get their hands on my dagger … kill me for my power … she will be left alone. If someone should," he had to pause to collect himself. "If someone should take her life with  _her_  dagger, I will lose her."

          "Then it is your responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "In three centuries, not once have you allowed that dagger to fall into another's hands. Don't let your fear paralyze you, dearie."

          His hands fisted at his sides as he tried to prevent his magic from destroying her. "This is insane!"

          Winter conjured a tea tray and set about making her a cup of the aromatic brew, a smile curving her lips. "No, darling. This is destiny."

 

*.*.*

 

          Sarah winced as she paused just inside the door and took in Belle's dejected form lying in the big bed, her shoulders shaking under the force of her sobs. This was not what she'd expected. Belle should be happy and smiling and filled with joy on the morning after her wedding. She'd married the man she loved, not some boorish, brainless lummox of her father's choosing. She set the tea tray on the table next to the hearth and climbed onto the bed to pull her friend into her arms.

          "Hush, love, you're going to make yourself ill," she crooned, smoothing the hair away from Belle's brow and drying her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. "It can't be that bad."

          "Yes, it can," Belle wailed, burying her face against Sarah's ample bosom.

          "Surely not. What happened? Did he not please you? Was he too rough?" she asked teasingly.

          Belle shook her head, sobbing harder.

          "Belle, love, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."

          "He th-thinks I've betrayed him," Belle cried.

          Sarah snorted. "This is Rumpelstiltskin we're talking about. You don't have it in you to betray him. I've never seen a love like the two of you share. He's mistaken."

          Belle pulled away from her friend, rising from the bed to clean her face with water from the pitcher on the bureau. "You don't know what I've done," she said, her voice trembling. She proceeded to tell Sarah everything about their bonding ritual and how they'd completed the final step the previous night when they'd made love and the price she'd paid.

          Sarah listened silently, her usual quips and barbed sarcasm mysteriously absent as Belle bared her soul. She watched Belle as she retrieved the golden nightgown from the floor and pulled it on before pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting in her husband's overstuffed leather chair before the crackling hearth. Still words failed her.

          When the silence continued, Belle lifted her gaze and stared at Sarah over the rim of her cup. "Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

          "Goblin's garters!" she gasped, finally coming back to herself. "Have you lost your bloody mind? How could you do such a thing?"

          "I had to!" Belle cried defensively. "I can't lose him."

          "Oh, I understand  _why_  you chose to pay such a price," Sarah assured her. "What I can't understand is why you would choose to withhold such a thing from Rumpelstiltskin." She rose from the bed and moved to point her finger at her friend, glowering down at her. "Have you learned nothing of the man in all this time? You, yourself, demanded honesty from him from the very beginning. He poured out his heart and soul to you in those letters, telling you things I'm certain he's never told another soul. This should have been a decision made by  _both_ of you, Belle. Don't you realize how hard it's going to be to get him to trust you again?"

          Belle cringed and set her cup down, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her brow against them, unable to bear looking at the condemnation in her friend's eyes. She knew she'd made a mistake not confiding in her beloved and her heart ached for what she'd done, but she would do it all over again to be with him. "I don't regret my decision to bind myself to him. But I do realize it was a mistake to keep it from him."

          "Well, I should hope so. Now the question is … what are you going to do to fix it? Gods, Belle! This day was supposed to be a happy one for you. You were supposed to be all giggly and overcome with dreamy sighs and secret smiles. How could you screw it up so royally?" Sarah asked, her shoulders drooping dejectedly.

          "Because I rushed in and didn't think it through?"

          "Well, at least you know what've you've done wrong," Sarah snarked dryly, rising to her feet. "Now, pull yourself together and think about what you're going to do when he returns."

          "Where are you going?" Belle fretted worriedly. She couldn't leave the room, the dagger's thrall holding her there just as much as her desire to obey her husband.

          "I have guests to see off, seeing as you're being punished and can't see to it yourself. Hopefully, that pack of outlaws won't make off with the silver when my back is turned."

          The corners of Belle's mouth turned up in a half-hearted smile as Sarah flounced from the room, hoping her new husband would be willing to accept her apology when he returned.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin didn't bother using the front door, not wanting to encounter anyone milling about in the castle, instead, using his magic to take him directly to the corridor outside his bedroom door. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching his home for signs of life. Sarah was in the kitchens preparing breakfast … hopefully, this time without burning his bacon, Marcus was in the Great Hall trying to clean the flue in the hearth, the outlaws, he sensed, had long ago departed as had the bandit princess, her dwarf friend and the holier than thou princeling and Jefferson was snoring away in his room in the south wing. He didn't mind the hatter so much … so long as he kept his long nose out of his domestic problems.

          He opened himself up and Belle's essence slammed into him with the force of a cannonball, stealing his breath and leaving him weak. He leaned a hand against the wall next to the double doors and groaned. At odds is not how he wanted to be with her today … or any day, for that matter. She was his wife, his greatest treasure, bound to him in their own forever, and he didn't want to spend eternity with her with this between them. But he couldn't let this stand where she thought she could use him as her own personal doormat.  _She_  demanded honesty and trust between them and yet, she was the first to toss it out the window and make a monumental decision without him. How could they be equals if she didn't trust him to compromise with her?

          The sorcerer caressed the handle of her dagger thrust into his belt and strengthened his resolve to teach her a lesson. He'd be lucky if she didn't hate him when the lesson was over, but by the gods she would be loath to repeat her mistake. He let the mask of the Dark One slip back into place as he turned the door handle and stepped into the room. She didn't need to see how much his decision was torturing him.

          Belle rose to her feet, hurrying to stand before him, remorse evident in her cerulean eyes. For once, her unswerving confidence had deserted her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you beforehand," she rushed to say, her voice trembling with uncertainty as she reached for him. "I —"

          An impish giggle slipped past his thin lips as he avoided her hands, taking a step back. "Ah, ah, dearie," he trilled condescendingly. "We'll have none of that now."

          Belle let her hands drop to her sides and her teeth grazed her lower lip, unsure of what to expect from him. She'd seen the coldness, the distrust in his eyes, and it served to make her feel worse. "Rumpel —"

          "Silence, pet," he commanded, moving around her to settle into his chair, stretching his legs out before him in a relaxed pose. Her lips snapped together, cutting off what she'd been about to say. He smirked at her with satisfaction. "You will not speak unless your master wills it. Price of the dagger, don't you know."

          He used his magic to refill the tea pot and pointed one long finger at it. "Tea, pet, if you please." Belle's body snapped to attention at the softly uttered command and she set about pouring and preparing his cup, watching him warily from beneath her lashes. Silently she carried out the task and handed him the cup, cursing herself as her hands shook. She moved to sit in the chair opposite him, but he stopped her. "Oh, no, my sweet, your place is here at your master's feet," he purred, gesturing to the sheepskin rug beneath his feet.

          Belle's eyes widened incredulously, her lips parting on a gasp that he would treat her no better than a hound. Against her will, she dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels, meeting his steady gaze with one of her own, the gold silk of her nightgown pooling on the rug around her legs. His hand carded through the curly locks at her temple, his nails scraping deliciously against her scalp and sending heat unfurling through her body like a sail while he calmly sat there and sipped his tea.

          "Isn't this what you expected, pet? You took on enough of the curse to bind yourself to a dagger … just like mine. Surely, you knew you'd be forced to comply with your master's wishes should anyone ever lay their hands on it. Or did Winter leave that part out?" he asked, giggling again as he trailed his index finger along the side of her face until it rested beneath her chin. He lifted her face to meet his gaze, a calculating grin on his own face. "You may answer."

          Belle breathed a sigh of relief as her tongue came unstuck from the roof of her mouth. "She did tell me. But I didn't think my own husband would assert himself as my master in such a way," she replied, her tone full of defiance as she glared at him.

          He leaned forward, his warm breath fanning her face as he brought his lips mere inches from her own. "Oh, my darling wife, I've only just begun to  _assert_  myself. When I'm done with you, you'll never hide  _anything_  from me … ever again."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Oy! Winter has really created a mess, hasn’t she?! And can Belle be more stubborn. Rumpel’s out to teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget, which not all of you are going to like. Please review!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I understand if you want to skip this chapter. Triggers, triggers everywhere … and a bit of smut, too.

 

          Belle felt a shiver skitter up her spine and ground her teeth together to stop her teeth from chattering. She refused to show fear to him or anyone. She wasn't made that way. She knew she'd made a mistake by not talking to him first, but in her heart, she was convinced he never would have agreed to it. What other recourse had been left to her? "Rumpel, please, if you would allow me to explain, darling."

          "Oh, I wait with bated breath, but first we need to get some breakfast into you. You're going to learn a valuable lesson through this little demonstration, but it won't include making you go hungry," he promised, pressing his brow to hers in a moment of weakness. He could only pray she would understand and somehow forgive him in the end. Hopefully, by the time breakfast was done, he would have driven his point home, she would have realized the severity of her decision and they could move forward. He didn't hold much faith that things would be quite so easy. Nothing had ever been easy for him before, so why should this time be any different? But it had to be done.

          Belle bit down hard on her lip, making sure to keep her eyes lowered as he pressed his brow to hers. The contact robbed her breath as she felt him through their bond. He wasn't quite as adept at hiding his emotions through touch as he was at wearing the mask of the Dark One and she fought the sly smile which threatened at her lips as she felt the fear drain from her body. She could feel the anger slowly simmering away somewhere deep within him, but more prevalent was his love for her and uncertainty over what he was about to do, and that uncertainty gave her confidence, reaffirming what she already knew … that he would never hurt her.

          "Come along, pet," he commanded, his tone clipped as he held out a hand to her. He was more irritated with himself than her, at the moment, because he was having an inner war with himself to maintain the cold harsh façade needed to teach her this lesson.

          Unable to help herself, Belle snorted. "Yes, master," she replied rising to her feet. "Am I to go down to breakfast like this?" She waved a hand at the gold silk nightgown she wore. "Perhaps you have a collar as well for your disobedient pet," she murmured sarcastically under her breath. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten just how acute his hearing was.

          His eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "I could have you go down naked if you'd prefer, though with the hatter still in residence, I think I'd rather have you clothed," he snarked, leaving her there to fetch something from her wardrobe. As if he'd allow  _anyone_  other than himself to see his precious girl bared to all, he thought with a huff. He returned moments later with a dress in a deep rich burgundy velvet that made her skin appear even paler than usual.

          Belle stood before him, a dark brow arched in challenge as she waited to see what he would do. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth … for all of two seconds … as he whipped the nightgown over her head. Her own smile widened, watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips as his gaze fastened on her breasts, the silk gown slipping from his long spinner's fingers to pool at her feet.

          "Something wrong, Rumpel?" she asked silkily, reveling in the shiver which seemed to shake him to his very core. The fingers of his right hand rubbed together as if he were caressing the thread of his wheel, a nervous habit which betrayed his emotions to Belle's keen gaze.

          With a superhuman effort, he refrained from reaching out and hauling her against his chest. Now was not the time to let his lust run rampant. There was work to be done. Her face fell with disappointment when he dragged the dress over her head and turned her around to do up the laces at her back. "There," he whispered huskily, his breath fanning out over her ear as he placed his hands on her shoulders and counted to ten. It didn't help.

          "Um … darling, you forgot my undergarments," she protested as he turned her around once more to face him.

          He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, his smug smirk firmly back in place as he tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "I didn't forget, pet."

          "Oh."

          "Now, what was it you said about a collar?" he asked, a thin, light-weight golden collar no more than two inches wide appearing in his hand attached to a long golden chain.

          Her eyes widened in alarm. "You're not serious!"

          "It was your idea," he drawled with an innocent look.

          Before she could lift her hands to protectively cover the area, he'd clasped it around the creamy expanse of her throat with a soft  _snick._ He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork, his amber eyes darkening with desire as ideas flooded his mind which had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson he had to teach her. With a gentle tug on the chain … after all, he didn't want to cause her to fall and injure herself … she stumbled forward into him, her hands clinging to his shoulders as his arms swept around her to hold her steady, his lips nearly brushing hers.

          "What if someone else had your dagger, pet? They would trot you out proudly before the entire court in nothing but a collar around your beautiful throat and shackles about your delicate wrists," he assured her in a breath of a whisper, raising her unbound hand to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to the thin tracery of veins in her wrist. She shivered, unable to stop herself in time, and he knew the mental image his words provoked struck fear into her heart. "How would you feel to have all your lovely charms on display for all to see?"

          A frown knit her brow as she lowered her eyes and worried at her lower lip, but she held her tongue as he released her and led her from the room to the lower floors of the castle. And he let her stew in her own thoughts until they'd almost reached the Great Hall when he commanded, "Tell me what Winter wrote in that journal to set you on this foolhardy path you've chosen."

          She had been forbidden to speak of it, yet found the words tumbling from her mouth, the thrall of the dagger stronger than a kept promise to the enchantress. "True love's joining, heart, life and body, forever will hold the soul and love of the Dark One. Only the greatest sacrifice born of steel, blood and magic will bring the happiness and harmony of the Dark One and his chosen mate … his heart mate."

          His teeth gnashed together in fury. _Meddlesome harpy!_ "That's it? That's all the explanation you received to make such a momentous decision?" he asked, the thin gold links of her chain tightening painfully around his hand as he reeled her in. "I can understand the blood of your innocence and an exchange of our magic, but really, Belle, what did you think steel meant?"

          Belle reached out to him, her fingers closing over his hand, her eyes beseeching him to understand. "Don't you see that I don't  _care_  what price I had to pay to be with you? I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rum, but in the end it's still my fate to be decided. Mine!" she cried, her voice rising just as hotly as her ire.

          "Your fate?! Madam, your fate is irrelevant under the thrall of the dagger!" he yelled back at her as his temper reached its boiling point. "In the hands of your master, your will is stripped from you. What you want, what you  _need_ , what you will tolerate is taken from you, leaving you at his mercy! You don't seem to be able to grasp that concept, you stubborn girl!"

          "If that was still the only way, I would do it again, Rumpelstiltskin," she hissed furiously, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin defiantly, refusing to cower under the weight of his rage.

          They were so embroiled in their own little drama they didn't notice when the double doors to the Great Hall opened and Jefferson peered out at them. "Something amiss?" he asked, his voice trailing off at the end, his brow arching dubiously as he noticed the collar around Belle's neck. The newlyweds turned their identical seething gazes on the hatter and he backed away warily. "On second thought … never mind." He pasted a rather maniacal grin on his face and retreated back into the hall to drink his cooling cup of tea.

          The sorcerer gave a sharp tug on his wife's chain, leaving her to follow. He kept his steps measured so she wouldn't have trouble keeping up with his longer stride, but he said not another word as he led her down the corridor to the kitchens to let Sarah know they were ready for breakfast in the hall. "Good morning, dearie," he greeted the castellan and his wife upon entering the room.

          Marcus's brows disappeared into his hairline, his limbs freezing as he moved to place a covered dish onto the tray at his elbow. Sarah emitted a small squeak of protest as her gaze fastened on the collar, her mouth gaping and her eyes widening incredulously. Belle kept her head down, unable to bear watching the reactions of her friends, trying to keep herself partially hidden behind her angry husband.

          "We're ready for the meal whenever you are ready to serve. And Marcus this afternoon I'd like to speak more with you on the matter of visiting the sheep ranch several villages over," Rumpelstiltskin said casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence to lead his wife about on a golden chain. He snatched a freshly buttered cranberry scone from the tray and turned on his heel to return to the hall without another word, leaving his gaping servants behind.

          "Seven hells! He did not just lead her in here on a leash!" Sarah screeched at her husband, rounding the worktable to retrieve a heavy black iron skillet from the draining board next to the sink.

          Marcus hurriedly moved to intercept her before she could rush headlong into the dining hall and brain the arrogant sorcerer with the pan. "Sarah, stop, love," he admonished, grabbing her arm and yanking the skillet from her hand. "You are not to interfere."

          "Lemme go, Marcus!" she hissed in fury. "He's got a bloody leash on her!"

          "Are you saying she doesn't deserve whatever punishment he sees fit after what she did?"

          "Oh, you  _would_  just have to take his side. Men! Always have to stick together. Well, let's see how you like sticking with the couch tonight, lummox!" she seethed.

          Marcus sighed in frustration and gazed tenderly at his wife. He'd known how spirited she was before he'd married her and knew how to treat her accordingly … with a gentle hand and soft words … something which calmed and soothed her much better than screaming and a hearty whack to her backside. "Sweetness, look at me," he coaxed. Her luminous hazel eyes blazed passionately as his gaze met hers. "They're married now. They have to work this out for themselves. If there's one thing I know about the imp, he adores Belle. He'll not hurt her."

          The fire seemed to burn out of her as she slumped dejectedly against her husband's chest. "But, Marcus, how could he degrade her in such a way? I never expected to see him treat her in such a manner."

          "Apparently, he thinks there's a lesson to be learned from this. Leave it alone. You know Belle will only tolerate what she thinks is necessary before she strikes back," he reasoned.

          Sarah sighed and raised up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his, melting into his embrace. "You'd better be right, darling, otherwise you  _will_  be sleeping on the couch."

          He kissed her breathless before releasing her and lifting the tray in his hands, winking roguishly in her direction. "No, I won't. Five minutes alone in that big bed and you'd be joining me on the couch, wrapped around me like a cheap suit."

          Sarah tossed a scone at his head, picked up the tea tray and followed him through the door and into the Great Hall, knowing just how right he was but not liking it at all.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin sat in his chair at the head of the massive dining table and tugged on Belle's chain, so she was once again kneeling at his feet to his right. The demon enjoyed seeing the fire blazing from her cerulean eyes, pleased the spinner’s beloved wasn't a cowering simpering maid, but had courage and a fiery determination which set her apart from all other women. It made him appreciate the bargain the spinner had made so long ago all the more. Jefferson shifted uncomfortably in his seat to the Dark One’s left and reached a hand to his tea cup, thankful when Sarah didn't dump the brew in his lap in her distraction. He was thinking Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't fare quite so well and should pour his own.

          He ignored the hatter and his servants and spread some cranberry preserves onto a scone. He held it out for Belle to take a bite, wanting to see her hunger satisfied before he indulged himself. As she took the last bite, she nipped his finger with her sharp teeth, sending a jolt of electricity spiraling up his arm. He smiled devilishly down at her obstinate features and brushed a stray curl over her shoulder, one long finger trailing around her ear before he placed it under her chin to tilt her face up to his.

          "Haven't you ever heard the expression 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'?" he snarked.

          "Give me a moment and I'll bite more than your hand," she returned, glaring hotly at him.

          Jefferson guffawed loudly and then nearly choked on a bit of bacon as his friend glared furiously at him. "Well," he sputtered, hastily finishing off his tea. "I do believe I need to be going. Gracie's with her auntie and she'll be wondering after me if I'm not home in time for her afternoon tea party."

          Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand to the hatter and shook it, not something he normally did with those he dealt with. "Thank you for being here for the wedding, Hatter."

          Jefferson gave a formal bow and winked at Belle who ducked her head with a blush. "My pleasure, Rum. Do call on me again should you need my services." He inclined his head again in Belle's direction. "Milady, it was lovely meeting you."

          "And you as well, Jefferson," Belle replied as politely as she could manage from her ignoble position at her husband's feet.

          Belle's heart skipped a beat as the hatter disappeared through the double doors and the locks began clicking around the room, sealing her in with her husband whose grin had grown positively wicked. "Rum —"

          He patted his knee. "Come, precious. Sit in my lap," he purred, his voice taking on a deeper pitch which sent gooseflesh spreading along her arms and wetness pooling between her legs. Gods, no man should be able to do that with just a few softly uttered words, she thought irritably. She rose shakily to her feet and did as he bid, letting him pull her onto his lap with her back against his chest and her legs on either side of his knees. She shrieked, startled as he spread his legs, bringing hers along with his. Her lips parted on a gasp as she felt cool air rush over her bared legs beneath her skirt to caress her heated flesh.

          He brought his lips to the low neckline of her gown and nipped gently at the sensitive crook where her neck met her shoulder, his tongue sliding sinuously beneath the golden collar, his hands caressing her hips in gentle soothing circles, his nails teasing through the fabric of her voluminous skirts. If this was his idea of punishment, she thought, he could continue indefinitely.

          "Isn't it nice not to have to dine before your father's court, my sweet? To have them see you enslaved to the Dark One, forced to bow and scrape to his will?" he asked, the flat of his tongue rasping hotly against the smooth column of her throat and drawing a whimper from her parted lips. "Ah, but then you wouldn't have minded it at all, would you, pet? You love me, after all. Just not enough to trust I love you the same. Not enough to trust I would never let you go," he purred, his hands dragging her skirt up over her knees.

          Some small part of her brain, the one which wasn't overwhelmed with the fire coursing through her blood and the heat pooling in her belly, was sending massive warning signals she should be wary of the silken seductiveness of his voice, but she was too inflamed to pay heed to it. "Rumpel …" she murmured, her head rolling back on his shoulder, giving him better access to her neck and her eyes slamming shut from the sheer pleasure of his mouth on her skin. She raised her arm and looped it around his neck, her hand grabbing tightly to his hair to hold him in place, afraid in his desire to punish her, he would leave her.

          He trailed the nails of his right hand along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, from her knee to the crease which met the apex of her thighs, his touch never quite reaching where she longed for it most. His left traveled from her hip, over her side and delving into the bodice of her gown to cup her breast. She cried out, bucking her hips as his fingers closed tightly over her nipple, fire sparking through to her core and making her seek his hand, needing the pressure to relieve the ache between her legs. He shifted beneath her, trying to relieve his own ache where it pressed into the small of her back, needing the contact, the friction with her just as badly as she did.

          "What do you want, precious?" he asked, dropping his head back against the back of the chair and grinding his teeth together as he fought for some semblance of control to prevent himself from bending her over the table and slipping into her welcoming heat.

          "You … need you … need you to touch me," she panted, completely lost to the sensations evoked from his questing hands.

          He strengthened his resolve as he slipped his slender fingers along her slit and parted her folds, pressing his thumb tightly to her clit and reveling in the sound of her mewling cries of pleasure. He took a deep breath and groaned as the sound went straight to his engorged cock and he pulled her back against his arousal, his lips going to her ear as his fingers slipped past the tight ring of muscles at her core and her slick inner folds clasping tightly around his digits and pulling him deeper within her. He bit down on her shoulder to muffle his own cry. He needed to be done with this, so he could carry her upstairs and put an end to the torture they were both suffering.

          "Belle, my sweet," he crooned. She turned her head, unmindful of her wrecked state, seeking his lips with hers, needing the intimacy of his mouth on hers. He denied her, his voice and breath teasing deliciously at her ear. "Listen to me, pet," he implored, gentling his movements to a teasing caress, his thumb circling her clit now instead of giving her the direct contact she craved. "Are you paying attention, my errant little love?"

          Belle slowly opened her eyes and focused on him, something in her trying to make her see the importance of what he was going to say. She nodded shakily, her hand tightening on his forearm she clung to, bracing herself for what was to come.

          He removed his hands from her, resting them on the arms of the chair, leaving her bereft without his touch and burning in frustration and need. "Close your eyes so I can show you something." He pressed his brow to hers and projected a scene of horror into her mind's eye. "Can you see it, pet? Can you see what it would be like if someone like that fool Gaston controlled you or worse yet, that idiot Byron from your father's court," he said, using examples of men she fairly despised. "Would you be drowning in pleasure from their touch as you do mine?"

          Belle shrank away from the images he projected into her mind, curling on her side on his lap and burying her face against his chest, trembling with the fear they caused. She saw herself naked and helpless, forced to obey their will as they touched her just as her husband had, only the love she could feel in Rumpelstiltskin's touch was a cruel and bitter poison in theirs. The imp withdrew from her before her imaginary masters could violate her, having her only see a few seconds worth, but just enough to leave her shaken.

          He wrapped his arms about her, smoothing his hands over her long, unbound hair and over the smooth curve of her back, his voice crooning softly to her, assuring her she was safe with him. "Hush, dear heart, you're safe. But can you see now? Can you see how foolhardy were your actions? Belle, in the wrong hands, you could experience this and so much worse. What if your master ordered you to kill … someone you loved, a friend … your father? Sarah? A child we may have one day?"

          "But —"

          "Belle!" He cursed under his breath. Was there no end to her willful stubbornness? "There is no room for protests. It would destroy you to harm someone … anyone … and you know it."

          "I'd never … never harm someone I cared for, dagger or no," she insisted, brushing the tears from her face.

          He set her on her feet and flinched away from the darkness clouding his features. He paced before the hearth, fighting a losing battle with his beastly temper. His warm amber eyes were nearly black as pitch when he turned to give her his attention and Belle took a step back, fearful. He was wearing the true face of the Dark One and she didn't know him like this, didn't want to know him like this.

          The Dark One stopped before her and grasped her chin in a firm grip, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You really think yourself stronger than the dagger, dearie?" he said, a maniacal giggle trilling from his lips. "Then let's put it to the test, shall we? Go into the kitchen, pick up a knife from the butcher's block and drive it into Sarah's heart."

          Belle's mouth fell open in a cry of pain, her heart feeling as if it were shattering into a million multicolored shards, followed by pure terror as her legs began to move against her will, the task given her most prevalent in her mind. The desire to fulfill it was stronger than any she'd ever felt before and she knew for the first time in her life that there was something greater than her magic, something greater than her goodness or the light which flourished within her. She'd taken on a part of his curse without thinking of the repercussions of her actions and now she was left with no recourse but to obey the small measure of darkness within her. Tears slipped silently from her lashes as she moved toward the door, her soul screaming for someone to help her.

          His voice came to her as her pale hand closed over the door handle, his arms wrapping about her waist and pulling her back into the cocoon of his embrace. "I rescind the order," he whispered, his voice carrying its own weight of pain from making her believe he'd let her kill her friend. She collapsed back against his chest, her sobs shaking her petite frame as tears washed over her ashen face. "Belle, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," he whispered, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her soft floral scent. "I swear to you, I never would have let you harm a hair on her head. But I had to make you see."

          "Gods, wh-what am I going to do, Rumpel? I could have hurt her, and I couldn't stop it." she cried, turning in his arms as he deftly lifted her and bore her to the table, setting her on the smooth surface. He ran his hands briskly over her upper arms, trying to restore some of her warmth. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his waistcoat, her eyes searching his face. "I'm sorry. I'll never do something like that without talking to you first. I know you were only trying to protect me." She poked him with her sharp nail, causing him to wince. "You could have been a bit gentler in your methods, however."

          He pulled her against his chest and gently pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss of apology. "Belle, if you had talked to me, we could have found another way to be together without you falling prey to Winter's manipulations."

          She shivered and brought her legs to wrap about his hips, bringing him closer so she could fully envelop him in her embrace. "I couldn't … I  _can't_  lose you, Rumpel. And I trust you to keep my dagger safe."

          He drew back to look down into her luminous cerulean eyes, amazed she wasn't running from him. "You … um … you still love me?" he asked, his age-old insecurities evident in his voice. He'd never felt worthy of love and he more than anyone freely admitted he didn't deserve his darling girl. "You still want to be with me after what I put you through?"

          "Oh, Rumpel," she tsked, sighing as she carded her fingers through the soft curls at his temple. "Even when you were trying to be a beast and a monster, you couldn't do it. I love you, all of you, and I'll fight every day of my life, if I must, to be with you. You are worth fighting for. And just as I regret the fact that I can be controlled with my dagger, I do not regret binding myself to you. You're mine and I'll never let you go."

          He took the dagger from his belt, resting it in her palm as he conjured a velvet cloth. She immediately felt the power of her will return to her, spreading through her being and allowing her to breathe easy for the first time in hours. He wrapped the cloth around the blade and secured it with a piece of his own golden cord, binding it securely and taking it from her.

          "Wait here, love," he said, pressing a kiss to her brow.

          "Where are you going?" she asked, wrapping her arms about herself to still the trembling that wouldn't seem to leave her.

          "To put this with its mate … somewhere no one will  _ever_  find them. Our power is our own, Belle, and I will die before I allow anyone to control you," he vowed, vanishing in a blink to fulfill his promise.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support of this story. You have no idea what your comments and reviews and follows and favs mean to me. xoxo


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is smut in this chapter, so if you want to skip that part …

 

 

          Belle took a deep calming breath and hugged her arms about her torso as she castigated herself for her foolishness. She'd lulled herself into thinking nothing was stronger than her own magic. She snorted, watching the shimmering doorway her husband had disappeared behind, her dagger safely in his hands. She understood why he'd thought he had to teach her a lesson and considering the darkness he'd lived with for centuries, it could have been so much worse. He could easily have let it take hold of him, let the power of controlling her go directly to his head … but he hadn't.

          There were untold horrors he could have forced her to commit against her will … yet, he hadn't. She shuddered at the thought of someone like Gaston, or Lord Byron or even her father having that much power at their fingertips, and it made her appreciate Rumpelstiltskin all the more. He'd shown her what could very easily happen without abusing the power and without causing her harm. The most she'd suffered was a bit of embarrassment in front of their close friends and the terror she'd suffered when the dagger's thrall had gripped her in those final moments and she'd thought she would have to kill her dearest friend.

          The thought of having to harm her friend had been the worst and if she hadn't been so stubborn, he never would have pushed her that far. How had he known it would take such a drastic step to make her see he was right, that she'd rushed into a deal she didn't understand? Since she had come into her magic, nothing had been beyond her power … aside from potion making, she amended. Her skills were still abysmal in that area, and since she'd given the magicks free rein, she'd been even more powerful. How could she really believe a dagger could control her so completely?

          Rumpelstiltskin sealed the door behind him, leaving nothing but a bare wall behind and looked at his wife sitting still as a statue on the dining table, twirling the length of golden chain about her fingers as she stared into the fire crackling in the hearth, seemingly lost to her thoughts.  _Oh Gods, I've broken her!_  He took a hesitant step towards her, an undignified whimper escaping his parted lips.

          "Belle?" he called to her, his voice barely more than a whisper, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides before he balled them into tight fists.

          She turned her luminous cerulean eyes up to meet his gaze and her heart broke, seeing she wasn't the only one to have suffered from her  _lesson_. He truly had regained his humanity over the last year and a half and was no longer completely swathed in darkness. She could see the fear and trepidation … the remorse written so clearly on his weathered features and her heart ached for him. She held her arms out to him and faster than she could follow him with her eyes, he had her enveloped in his embrace. He stepped between her parted knees and wrapped his arms tightly around her, his brow pressed against her shoulder.

          "I'm so sorry, dear one, so sorry," he breathed against the shell of her ear.

          She carded her fingers through his soft curls and dropped a soft kiss to his cheek. "No, you're not."

          "Belle, no —"

          "It was necessary, my Rumpel. I should have come to you with what I found in the journal. I should have trusted you. You have been the Dark One for centuries, and I should have known you would know what was best regarding your curse and our binding," she said, her voice gentle as she smoothed her fingers over the tense muscles at his nape. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

          He withdrew only far enough to meet her gaze with a searching one of his own. "There were other choices open to us had I known. We could have foregone either of the last two steps. It was already too late for our hearts, we had no choice as deeply as we love one another. But …"

          Belle worried her lower lip between her pearly teeth and arched a brow. "Really, Rum? Could you really have lived with me, shared my bed and begun a family with me if you weren't first bound to me in matrimony?" She shook her head. "You're too noble. And had you married me, there is very little chance you would have been able to  _abstain_."

          He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I … I would have let you go," he admitted bitterly, grinding his teeth together against the pain those hateful words caused him. He knew he never would have survived had he been forced to make that decision. Knowing her love, he didn't want to think what he would have become had he been forced to send her away. "To save you, my Belle, I would have let you go."

          Belle stared at him in horror, her lower lip trembling and her eyes burning with unshed tears. "No," she stated adamantly. "You might have been able to let me go, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to do the same. You're mine … forever, Rumpelstiltskin. What's done is done and there is no changing it." He went to step away from her, but she took the chain still attached to the collar around her neck and looped it around his own, reeling him back into her.

          "Belle," he murmured, his face twisted with all the self-loathing he was feeling. She ignored it and hooked her heels around the backs of his leather-clad thighs, refusing to let him escape. He cradled her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. "I will always protect you, my Belle, always."

          "I know," she whispered against his mouth, nipping lightly at his lower lip, her hands tightening on the chain she had about his neck. His hands drifted along her jaw, coming to settle against the cool metal against her throat, sliding along the gold to unclasp it at her nape. "Leave it," she breathed, losing herself to the heat of his touch, the fire he'd stoked within her earlier roaring to life once again.

          He gaped at her, his brows drawn together in a puzzled frown. "Belle, I wouldn't have dared put this on you in the first place had you not suggested it."

          Belle's eyes darkened with desire as she looked up into the startled face of her beloved. "Tell me something, my husband," she purred. "How did it make you feel when I called you … _master?"_

          The Dark One howled lasciviously and the Spinner gasped in delight as a violent shudder of lust rocked through him, his cock hardening painfully at her whispered words. All coherent thought fled his mind as she used her heels to draw him tightly against her, his arousal pressing between her thighs. Did she really expect him to answer her? How was he supposed to respond to such a wicked question … from his sweet little innocent bride?

          He shook his head to clear it. "This," he fairly squeaked, his fingertips caressing the collar as he swallowed, his mouth dry as a desert. "This arouses you, sweetling?"

          She nodded slowly, a spark of mischief amidst the desire in her eyes. Releasing her hold on the chain, she trailed a finger from the center of his chest to the waistband of his pants, her magic opening his brocade vest and silk shirt in one fell swoop. She pushed them both over his shoulders to land in a heap at his feet and pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart before she hazarded a glance up to take in his reaction. "Yes. Does that make me wanton?"

          His eyes were blown wide with lust as he gripped the chain in his hand, wrapping it slowly around his hand as he pulled her toward him and crashed his mouth down on hers, kissing, nipping … devouring. When he deemed it necessary to let her breathe, he trailed his lips along her jaw and then down the smooth ivory column of her throat, his tongue slipping between the collar and her alabaster skin. He was inflamed, every nerve ending in his oversensitive body screaming to claim her. His tongue followed the path of the chain which now lay against her as it dangled between them, abandoning it to kiss the tops of her breasts exposed by the low bodice of her gown.

          He thought for a moment he should magic them up to their bedroom, that he shouldn't simply debauch his wife on the dining hall table, but her nails scraping against the sensitive flesh of his stomach and her fingers deftly pulling at the ties of his breeches chased any noble thoughts he might have had clear from his mind. His teeth pulled at the laces on the front of her gown and he let out a frustrated groan when they refused to give. He laid her back gently against the smooth wood of the table, his hands pushing her skirts further up about her waist, praising his decision earlier to deprive her of her underpinnings. He ground his hips to hers, reveling in the sweet moans of pleasure issuing from her throat as her heels found the small of his back.

          Her heavy-lidded eyes never left him as his blackened nails trailed over her slender thighs, his grin wicked as he moved closer to where she wanted him to be. "R-Rum, please," she pleaded, her breath coming in soft pants as she watched him, waiting, unable to move against him any longer as his hands held her in place to keep her from getting the friction she so desperately needed.

          But he had no intention of denying her as he lowered his head, placing a soft kiss to the top of her right thigh as he caressed the left with his hand. He sucked her flesh into his mouth, the heat of his lips branding her, marking her as his before running the flat of his tongue over her dripping folds, her flavor bursting like ambrosia over his palette. He moaned as his wife let out a long loud keening sound as his tongue circled her clit, her hands digging painfully into his scalp as she writhed fretfully beneath him.

          "Rumpelstiltskin!" she cried, her voice hoarse and raspy.

          He smiled against her and doubled his efforts, bringing his fingers into play, determined to bring her over the edge and shatter against his tongue. She deserved it. Their first day of marriage had gotten off to a rocky start … understatement of the century … and he would endeavor to make every day afterwards filled with nothing but joy for his beloved.

 

*.*.*

 

          Sarah's mouth dropped open and she lifted her hand to cover it as she edged closer to the double doors leading into the Great Hall. Judging from the sounds within, she was only able to come to two conclusions … one, he was thoroughly taking advantage of the power he held over her, or two, they'd resolved their differences and were finally commencing with their honeymoon. She seriously hoped it was the latter.

          "What are you doing?"

          Sarah startled violently, a flush spreading up her neck to stain her cheeks at being caught eavesdropping. She rounded on the voice and narrowed her eyes on the amused smirk adorning the hatter's mouth. "Nothing which concerns you, Jefferson. I thought you’d left," she huffed, arching a querulous brow in his direction.

          He flashed her his sinfully seductive trademark smile and sidled closer to her. "Oh, just had to pop back upstairs to get my hat, my sweet Sarah."

          Sarah rolled her eyes and breathed out an irritated sigh. "Well, now you've got it, so you'd best be on your way. I'm sure Marcus is waiting for you at the gate to let you out."

          "That still doesn't explain what you're doing with your ear pressed to the door," he drawled, his voice a soft caress as he reached out to twirl one of her ebony curls about his finger.

          She smacked his hand away and opened her mouth to upbraid him for his boldness when another long keening wail echoed through the hall and slipped beneath the door. Sarah blushed scarlet and lowered her eyes to the floor as Jefferson's head slowly turned towards the door, his mouth falling open before forming a perfectly round 'o' of astonishment.

          He clasped his hands before him and pressed his lips together to form a thin line. "Well, she's rather vocal in her enjoyment, isn't she?"

          Sarah rubbed her hand over the heat curling around the back of her neck and contemplated banging her head against the door as the imp howled his own pleasure. She grabbed Jefferson's arm and ushered him to the entry doors, reaching to grasp the door handle. "Lovely to see you, thanks for coming to the wedding and all that, hatter," she said hurriedly.

          However, before she could curl her hand around the handle, both she and Jefferson were shunted backwards as the door imploded forward. He helped her regain her balance with a hand to her elbow as he glared at the men standing on the threshold, two of them holding a battered Marcus between them. The color drained from her face as she rushed forward to see to her husband, her hazel eyes flashing hotly.

          The king of Avonlea stood there, his ruddy face flushed with anger as his icy eyes speared Sarah with his gaze. "Where is she?!" he bellowed, seemingly unworried about his safety in the Dark Castle as he was flanked by half a dozen of his best knights with their weapons drawn.

          "How dare you come here after what you've done!?" Sarah fumed, patting Marcus rather sharply on the cheek. She needed him alert and she it was imperative she warn Belle and Rumpelstiltskin of their unwanted guests.

          Gaston nocked an arrow into the longbow he held and pointed it in her direction. "You are nothing but a traitor to your kingdom. It would be best if you held your tongue."

          Sarah flipped him a rude gesture, her other hand surreptitiously moving to retrieve the dagger she knew Marcus kept hidden in his boot. When the king drew Gaston's attention, she palmed it, waiting for any opportunity to use it. Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest and glared haughtily at the king, moving to stand before the double doors leading into the Great Hall.

          "Rumpelstiltskin is out. I'm sure you wouldn't mind returning another day when he's in residence," Jefferson felt compelled to say, praying these fools wouldn't interrupt the Dark One in the midst of his fun. Then again, he thought, it would be mighty entertaining to behold his wrath against the nobles.

          "I don't care about him. I've come for my daughter. Now, where is she?" Maurice blustered, striding forward and standing toe to toe with the hatter.

          Jefferson grinned, chuckling softly. "Well, I would suppose she's with him." He leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice as if to share a great secret. "It's not often you see one without the other. Thick as thieves, they are."

          The king's lips drew back over his teeth in a sneer as his face mottled even more in his rage. "I'm not leaving here without her," he vowed.

          Jefferson clapped his hands together gleefully and tittered a rather mad giggle before all semblance of humor vanished from his handsome face. "Care to wager on that, majesty? I assure you, odds are not in your favor. I —"

          A string of low keening moans filtered into the foyer from the hall, cutting of Jefferson's speech. The color drained from the king's face, his eyes widening. He gestured his knights forward, the two who had been holding Marcus, grabbing Jefferson's arms and moving him out of the way as two more threw their hulking weight against the doors.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Oh, Rum, so close … so close … don't stop," Belle pleaded, her hands full of her husband's hair as she writhed beneath him, her breath coming in quick sharp pants. "Yes!"

          Her climax was cut short as the locked doors of the Great Hall imploded inward and Rumpelstiltskin removed his mouth from her heated flesh, dragging his forearm over his glistening mouth. Belle gaped at the intruders, her eyes blowing wide with shock to see her father and his knights standing there staring back at her with equal measures of shock and … disgust. Her gaze swung to her husband to see how he would retaliate, but before he could raise his hand to curse them all, Gaston fired the arrow from his bow, the projectile embedding itself deep within Rumpelstiltskin's right hip.

          Maurice gasped. "Oh, GODS! We're too late!"

          Marcus had come to and engaged a tall fair-haired knight in combat, Jefferson taking a sword from the wall and jumping into the fray with a dark-haired knight a good head taller and stronger than himself. But Jefferson had an ease of movement the bulkier knight did not and was able to match him blow for blow, his lithe body almost elegant in his movements. Sarah had jumped on Gaston's back and was bludgeoning him with the hilt of her dagger. He'd dropped his bow in an effort to free his hands up in order to pry her from his back, but he'd already dropped to his knees from the pain smarting through his skull. The other two knights flanked the king in a protective stance should the Dark One's servants decide to come after him next.

          Belle ignored them all, jumping down from the table, her distress written clearly on her face as chaos reigned in her hall. "Rumpel!" she cried, rushing to him and kneeling over his prone form, afraid to touch him, wary of the blue sheen of magic which cloaked his body.

          "Belle, don't touch me!" he warned through clenched teeth, enraged her father had pulled such a dirty trick. "I don't want it transferred to you somehow."

          "What is it?" she asked, kneeling beside his head in a defensive stance, her fingertips crackling with magic.

          "The only thing which can possibly immobilize my magic … squid ink. The arrow was tipped with it. Fucking fairies no doubt!" he growled.

          Belle's eyes glowed gold as her father reached for her, trying to pull her away from Rumpelstiltskin. A jolt of pure magic shot into his hand, shocking it into numbness as he touched her, and he jerked back, his eyes wide and fearful as she glared at him. The clang and clamor of swords, the grunts and groans and shouts of the combatants finally destroyed the firm band of control she had over her magic and she snapped, raising her hands and bringing an end to it all. She raised her arms, pure golden light erupting from her palms and enveloping the battling knights, lifting them a good six foot into the air, their weapons falling uselessly from their hands, their eyes wide and panicked.

          She turned on her father and a chair skittered across the floor to hit him behind his knees. He collapsed in a heap against the padded seat, his surprise so great, he was left at a loss for what to say. "Enough of this!" she hissed. She turned to the others in the room asking, "Are you all okay?"

          Sarah looked up at Gaston and prodded him in the ass with her dagger, grinning with wicked satisfaction when he yowled in pain, the seat of his pants pierced by the sharp blade. "I am now." She rushed to see to her husband, who was favoring his ribs on his right side, fussing over him. Jefferson limped over to the table and tossed his sword on the tabletop before dropping into a chair, a long slash in his leather breeches on his left leg.

          He laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes wearily, sighing now that it was over. "Just peachy, princess."

          "Belle …" Maurice began hesitantly.

          She lifted her hand, her index finger raised in warning. "Not a word, father. Not one bloody word from you," she warned as she knelt at her husband's side on the Aubusson carpet. "Sarah, can you fetch me one of the empty potion vials from the back of the cabinet there, please?"

          "What are you doing, dearest?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, his eyes following her every movement.

          "I need to see if might be able to remove it, love. If it can bind your magic by simply touching your skin, I can well imagine the effects will last even longer if it enters your bloodstream," she fretted, taking the vial from Sarah and setting it on the floor beside her.

          "Don't let it touch you," he warned, closing his eyes and trusting her to help him.

          Her hands glowed with a brilliant golden light as she focused. She sent tendrils of her magic into him, numbing the area around the arrow shaft protruding from his hip, wanting to spare him the pain of removing it. When the arrow had been removed, the projectile harmlessly hovering next to them, Sarah rushed forward with a cloth and wrapped it carefully before carrying it to the hearth and tossing them both into the flames. Belle sent her magic into the wound, her eyes closed as she concentrated her focus on her task. Golden tendrils of magic spread throughout his veins, seeking out every trace of the vile ink coursing through him and pulling it back towards the open wound.

          Her imp moaned, and her eyes flew to his face, a small smile curving her lips as his eyes glowed warmly as they met hers. She knew that look all too well by now. "Feel good, darling?" she asked, her voice a silken caress on his battered senses.

          Rumpelstiltskin’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, wishing more than anything that he could touch her in that moment while her magic was flooding his veins with pure pleasure. "Yes," he croaked out, biting his lip to stifle another moan.

          "Almost done, darling. Another moment and I'll have it all," she assured him, her eyes moving to the blob of ink forming into a viscous ball to hover near her elbow. When she felt the last of the ink leave his body, she swished her hand and transferred it into the vial, corking it. "Sarah, please bring that to the library and put it on Rumpel's worktable. I'm certain he'll be able to find a use for it later." She didn't want it within her father's treacherous reach. The faint blue glow remained, and she frowned. "It may take a bit before you're restored."

          "I'll be fine, dearest," he said weakly, offering her reassurances.

          "Does it hurt? I could try to heal you," she offered.

          "Wait until the effects wear off and I can do it myself. You've expended quite enough magic and I don't want you to tire yourself."

          She nodded, acquiescing to his wishes and turned to Jefferson. "What about you, Jefferson? Would you like me to heal you?"

          "Nah. Just a scratch. I'll be fine."

          Maurice rose shakily to his feet and glared down at his daughter, his voice quivering with rage. "How the hell could you let that thing touch you!? I come in here and he has you spread out on the table like a bloody feast for his perversions and —"

          "You will NOT call my husband a THING!" she hissed through clenched teeth, more than weary of her father's disparaging remarks.

          "NO! No, Belle, please tell me you didn't marry him!" he bellowed, his face draining of color. "How could you? You're wearing a bloody slave collar. If you were truly his wife, he wouldn't treat you in such a demeaning manner. Then again, he is the Dark One. What can one expect from that demon?"

          Belle banished the collar from her neck with a snap of her fingers and raised a brow at her father, her face lined with irritation. "What goes on between my husband and myself is our business, Father," she sneered coldly.

          "Come with me, my girl. We'll have this farce of a marriage annulled and no one need be the wiser. We'll find you a kind and decent man to wed, one who can overlook the fact that you have magic —"

          Rumpelstiltskin struggled to sit up as the last of the ink's effects wore off and released him. "You will not take her!" he snarled. "She's mine! My wife! Bound to me by magic and man and you will never take her from me." He rose to his feet, pulling Belle up with him and pushing her behind him.

          Belle bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and held it out for him to slip his arms in the sleeves, scoffing at her father. "I'm not going anywhere with him, Rumpel." she vowed boldly, stepping into the circle of his arms. She glared at her father. "I tried to make you understand. I tried to make you see I was very much in love with him, but in your stubbornness, you could only see that he was the feared sorcerer of legend. Really, father, knowing me as you do … do you for one moment believe I would give my heart to a monster?"

          "He could have bewitched you," Maurice mumbled half-heartedly, seeming to deflate before her eyes as he fought to hold on to his convictions.

          Belle sighed and rested her head against her husband's shoulder, closing her eyes and praying for patience. "You cannot bewitch someone to fall in love with you, Papa. It's one of the basic laws of magic. Now I want you to leave my home. You have done nothing but seek to harm us with your machinations, and I don't want you here. If by some miracle you can come to terms with my choice of husband, you may return for a visit in six months' time. If not …" She left it open for his own interpretation, taking comfort in the soft squeeze of her husband’s hand at her waist. She glanced up at his face, worrying at her lip. "If that is acceptable to you?"

          Rumpelstiltskin glared menacingly at his father-in-law. "If he can behave himself and stop trying to poison me or steal you away. Because I assure you, my Belle, I will not let another threat to us go unpunished."

          "Bastard!" Sarah mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms over her bosom and staring daggers at the monarch's back. "Makes me want to take my skillet to his head."

          Rumpelstiltskin's trademark giggle trilled through the hall and he winked at the girl.

          Maurice glared at her over his shoulder before he held out his hand to his daughter. "I … I will think about it. If it is the only way to avoid losing you, I will give it serious thought."

          Belle flashed him a sad smile and took his hand, encouraged for the first time since her relationship with Rumpelstiltskin had begun that her father would begin to change. She was also more than impressed her husband hadn't taken revenge on the king. She'd more than expected Maurice Beaumont to be slithering along on his belly in the rose garden.

          The king cleared his throat, a grimace lining his face as he looked over at his knights. "Belle, do you … ah … think you might … um … let them down?"

          "I suppose," she sighed wearily. She released them, a satisfied smirk that would do the Dark One proud, gracing her lips. "Goodbye, Papa."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Well, I can't say that was fun!" Jefferson snorted as he set his tea cup on the table and placed his hat atop his head. The king and his knights had departed without much fuss and Rumpelstiltskin had healed the gash in the hatter’s leg and now he was ready to be on his way.

          "I'm so tired," Belle said, covering a huge yawn with her hand. She was sitting on her husband's lap on the sofa before the hearth, snuggled into his embrace.

          "Well I did promise being married to me would never be boring," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

          "That's for damn sure," the hatter said, taking Belle's hand and brushing a quick kiss to her knuckles. "Milady, as always, it was my pleasure to serve you both."

          "Thank you, Jefferson," she smiled up into his warm gray eyes.

          Rumpelstiltskin nodded to him. "Hatter."

          Belle looped her arms about her husband's neck and captured his lips with hers as soon as the doors closed behind their friend. "I want you … to ward the castle … to keep … EVERYONE out … for at least a week," she demanded between kisses. "I am weary of being interrupted."

          "Perhaps we can take supper in our bedchamber and then maybe a bath?" he suggested, his lips trailing along her jaw to nip lightly against her ear.

          "Best idea I've heard all day," she breathed huskily, losing herself to the pleasure of her husband's talented lips, not even noticing when he used his magic to whisk them away upstairs.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There will be smut towards the end of this chapter, so if that's not your thing ...
> 
> Hope you all like this one ...

 

 

          Belle moaned woefully and rolled over in the massive four-poster, dragging her pillow over her head as she heard the squeak of hinges and the rattle of china. How had she even gotten in the bed, she wondered fretfully around the throbbing in her skull? The last she'd remembered was Jefferson leaving and Rumpel carrying her upstairs. She reached out a hand and only encountered cool empty sheets beside her.

          "'Bout time you woke your lazy bones," Sarah greeted cheerfully, setting the tea tray on the bed near Belle's hip and climbing up onto the mattress to sit next to her. She tugged gently on the pillow covering Belle's face, knowing she wouldn't be quite ready to give it up. "I have croissants, Belle," she sing-songed.

          "Are … choc … late?" came the muffled reply.

          "Beg pardon?" Sarah asked, stirring two cubes of sugar and a slice of lemon into her mistress's tea.

          Messy chestnut curls and one cracked eyelid peered from beneath the pillow. "Are they chocolate croissants, perhaps?" Belle asked hopefully.

          Sarah took advantage of Belle's distraction and snatched the pillow away. The new lady of the Dark Castle huffed indignantly, but pushed herself up into a sitting position and accepted the cup from her friend. She sighed in pleasure as the delicate brew warmed her palate and began to revive her. "You don't happen to have a headache powder with you by any chance?"

          Sarah smirked knowingly and pulled one from her apron pocket, holding it out to her. "Rumpelstiltskin said you might be suffering ill effects from your overuse of magic yesterday."

          Belle grimaced as the white powder touched her tongue and she was quick to swallow it back with a sip of her tea. "Not the first time and I'm certain it won't be the last," she groaned, waving her hand dismissively. The curtains flew open to let in the bright afternoon sun and her mouth gaped open to stare at her hand.

          "Seems things are  _not_  as they have been, love. You took on a bit more than you could handle, I think."

          "Did not," Belle replied sulkily, reaching for one of the chocolate croissants on the tray and biting into it with a delighted moan. Nothing made her happier than chocolate breakfast pastries and she could just kiss Sarah for bringing it up to her.

          "Hmm," Sarah hummed, shaking her head at Belle's clear case of denial. "It might also explain why you're still abed at two in the afternoon," she murmured dryly.

          "Gods! Seriously?"

          "Yes, love, seriously."

          Belle chewed the flaky pastry and asked, "Where's Rum? Why didn't he wake me?"

          Sarah shrugged. "When he came down this morning, he said to let you sleep, that you needed to regain your strength," she explained. "Then he and Marcus headed to Melliston to visit the sheep farmer to acquire the sheep Marcus wants to raise in the south pasture."

          Belle yawned, having forgotten about her husband's plans for Marcus' venture, and regarded her friend over the rim of her tea cup. "I'm sure after I have a bath and a fresh change of clothes I'll be right as rain."

          "Will you?" Sarah asked, arching a dubious brow.

          Belle's brows knit together in a wary frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

          She fixed Belle with a pointed stare and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. "You want to tell me what all that was about yesterday morning? Why the imp was parading you about the castle … in. A. Gold. Collar?"

          Belle winced as Sarah's voice rose in volume and she pressed the heel of her hand to her brow to ward off the pain in her head. "That is between my husband and myself," she answered stubbornly, reaching for another croissant.

          Sarah snatched the plate away and glared at her friend. "What are you to him now … his slave girl? And just when I was beginning to like him, too." She rolled her hazel eyes. "You know, Marcus and I have done some really kinky things in the course of our short marriage, Belle, but I can't say we've ever done anything like that."

          Belle's lips twitched, in embarrassment or amusement, she wasn't quite certain, and her face flushed a delicate shade of pink as she met Sarah's twinkling eyes.

          "Did he make you do anything odd? He doesn't have some weird foot fetish, does he? I mean, he's the Dark One. He could have all kinds of strange sexual appetites. But I would really like to have a little warning next time. I very nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw —"

          "Sarah!" Belle gasped incredulously at her outspoken friend. "It wasn't like that!"

          Sarah grinned impishly. "Well, from the sounds coming from the Great Hall, at least you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

          "You heard me?!" Belle croaked in horror and buried her face in her hands.

          "So did your father. Jefferson and I tried to keep him out, Belle, but he was rather insistent. I knew he'd show up here sooner or later, although we could have wished for later."

          Belle snorted and snatched another croissant when her friend wasn't looking. "I can't say I was happy to see him. He barged into our home and  _shot_  my husband with an arrow! I mean, who does that? I know most fathers have issues with their son-in-laws, never thinking they're good enough for their little girls, but to shoot him? With squid ink? I'm just hoping at the end of the time period I gave him, he'll come to his senses and realize if he wants to be part of my life, he's going to have to accept my husband."

          "Don't hold your breath, love," Sarah murmured under her breath as she poured more tea into Belle's empty cup. "So … did you and the imp work through your difficulties concerning his curse? I can't say I've ever seen him so upset as he was yesterday morning."

          Belle sighed and slowly chewed the bite of flaky pastry in her mouth before answering. "I broke his trust, Sarah, by not talking to him about this with him before I made this decision. I was just so afraid he would deny me this."

          Sarah reached out and squeezed her hand, trying to offer her friend what comfort she could. "He loves you, Belle. It took me awhile to see it, but it's clear he does. Of course, he wouldn't want you to be cursed along with him."

          'But I don't see it that way, Sarah. If this allows me to be with him forever …" her voice trailed off as she set her cup back on the tray and reclined back against her pillow. "He needs me, just as I do him, and it's a sacrifice I was happy to make."

          "You'll win his trust back, Belle. All marriages begin rather rocky as you get to know your new spouse. Let's just hope you'll be able to live with the consequences of your actions," she said with a tight smile. "And the extra magic must be an added bonus, hm?"

          "I think the added control I feel over it is the bonus. I'm hoping it will be helpful when we leave to search for Baelfire," she told her, a happy smile curving her lips as she thought about leaving on the quest to search for Rumpelstiltskin's son.

          "I just want you to be happy, Belle. And as long as Rumpelstiltskin makes you happy —"

          "He does," Belle insisted, believing it with every fiber of her being. "Now stop worrying about me, alright."

          "I love you, Belle. I doubt I'll ever  _not_  worry about you," she said, deciding to change the subject. "Now, tell me … when are you going to set off on this quest?"

          Belle's brow knit together in a frown as her teeth worried at her lower lip. "I'm not certain. The journal said I would know when the time was right. Something about stars being aligned or some such cryptic nonsense. Winter is not big on stating things in a way that's easily understandable."

          Sarah's response was cut short by a noise at the gate, the massive iron structure swinging inward to allow entrance to their husbands, more than two dozen sheep and the biggest sheepdog she'd ever seen. Belle rose from the bed to stand beside her at the window, watching their men below herd the sheep until they disappeared from sight.

          "Marcus must be beside himself with glee. He never wanted to be a soldier," Sarah said, a fond smile curving her lips. "Always more interested in raising sheep and having a farm. Looks like his dreams are coming true."

          A whisper of magic and the faint smell of ozone preceded Rumpelstiltskin into the room and Belle turned to greet him, her cerulean eyes widening as she took in the sight of her husband. "Rumpel!" she gasped, fighting back a laugh at his wry expression. "Good heavens, what happened to you?"

          The sorcerer bit back a curse as he turned guiltily to face his new wife. "Belle … um…I thought you'd be in the library, or the hall …"  His voice trailed off as the fingers of his right hand rubbed absently against his thumb, remembering at the last moment she would be trying to regain her strength today and would likely still be abed. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

          Sarah bit hard on the inside of her cheek, actually feeling sorry for the imp. He was caked in mud and grime and all manner of nasty things from the top of his curly head to the tips of his usually polished boots. "I'd say she's a sight better than you are, Imp. Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

          Rumpelstiltskin sighed wearily, not even bothering to look down at himself and the spectacle he made before the two women in his life. "I will be, dearie, as soon as I can get cleaned up."

          Belle bit back a chuckle and shooed Sarah towards the door with the promise to see her later for dinner before turning to her husband. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow at him. "You were sneaking up here to get a bath before I could see you … weren't you, Rumpelstiltskin?"

          He grimaced, flourishing his hand in an elaborate gesture. "Perhaps."

          She moved to stand before him and raised up on tiptoe to brush her lips to his, careful not to touch any other part of his body and the mess which coated him. "Something you'd like to tell me?"

          "Not particularly."

          This time she wasn't able to hold back her quiet laughter, the sound washing over him like a soft caress and bringing a gentle smile to his own lips. "Hmm," she murmured, quirking her finger at him to follow her into their bathing chamber. "Why didn't you use magic to get rid of the mess?"

          He held his tongue as he watched her fill the tub and add their favorite scented salts and bubbles to the water before he flicked his wrists and dimmed the lights about the room, leaving them in semi-darkness. "Because that bloody ram the shepherd ensured me was such a great bargain is the orneriest cuss I've ever had the misfortune to set my eyes upon."

          "Why must you do that?" she asked, tackling the fastenings on his waistcoat, her nose crinkling as her fingertips came in contact with the grime. She wiggled her fingers and most of the mess vanished from his clothes, making it easier for her to disrobe him.

          "Do what?" he asked, puzzled.

          Belle rolled her eyes and lifted her hand, blowing softly against her palm. The candles roared back to life in their sconces along the walls, the soft glow causing the gold flecks to appear to dance beneath his skin. He tsked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and scowled down at her, snapping his fingers and returning them to how they'd been previously.

          "That," she said, narrowing her eyes at him as she pulled his shirt over his head.

          "It's enough you married the beast, dearling. You shouldn't have to see me in full light," he muttered, ducking his head and looking away from her as he rid himself of his breeches and boots and waded into the sunken marble pool which served as their bathtub, the steaming water lapping about his hips.

          Belle chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip and balled her hands into fists at her side, refusing to revisit the same argument once again. Instead, she lowered the thin straps of her night gown over her arms and let it slide down her body to pool about her feet before she joined him in the water, stepping behind him and wrapping her arms about his waist, her cheek pressing between his shoulder blades. She raked her nails over the flat plane of his stomach and reveled in the soft hiss which issued from him and the rippling of muscles beneath his taut flesh.

          "Belle …"

          She shushed him and pressed gently on his shoulders, dunking his head beneath the water and then pouring a bit of soft soap into her palm, lathering it well before attacking his hair. A deep throaty growl of contentment rumbled from him as her nails scraped slowly over his scalp, drawing out his pleasure. She smiled knowingly as she rinsed his hair and warm amber eyes met hers. His overlarge pupils were blown wide with desire, his lips parted as he dragged in a shaky breath.

          Belle ignored his need and added soap to a soft cloth, lathering it and dragging it over his chest. "Now tell me what happened to you. Something about an ornery ram?"

          He forced himself to focus on telling her what she wanted to know instead of giving into the urge to reach for her and haul her against his chest, biting back a low moan as she gave up on the cloth and used her fingertips to work the tension from his shoulders. "Um … well …"

          "Focus, darling," she demanded with a soft laugh, tugging gently on his wet hair.

          "Must I?" he pouted, his voice holding just the faintest hint of a whine.

          Belle nipped at his ear with her teeth and felt a shiver flow through him. "I want to know what you did today. Is that too much to ask? Then we can move on to more  _pleasurable_  pursuits," she whispered, her warm breath fanning out over his ear.

          "Tease," he growled.

          She went back to working the stubborn knots from his shoulders. "Yes, but you love me anyway."

          He caught her hand in his, dragging it over his shoulder to drop a kiss to her palm, turning his head to catch her gaze. "Aye, love, I do. Never doubt it." Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze and she could literally feel how very deeply he meant every word. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he reached out to turn her around and dunk her head beneath the water. "My turn."

          He began his tale as he worked his fingers through her hair, spreading the rose and vanilla soap she favored through the locks. "I magicked Marcus and myself to Melliston this morning to visit Mr. Thatcher. I figured it would save time and then we'd use more conventional methods on the return trip. Thatcher's not a bad sort even though he drives a rather hard bargain. His sheep are the best in these parts, so if I had to pay more than what I'd like, at least I knew I wasn’t being cheated."

          Belle relaxed back against him and enjoyed his ministrations while she listened to the warm lilt in his voice. "How many did you purchase? It looked like a fair few from what I could see from the window."

          "Four lambs, twenty ewes and three rams," he mumbled distractedly, concentrating on rinsing the thick lather from her hair. "Fine specimens, Belle. They will produce high quality wool for spinning."

          "No more straw into gold?"

          "We've more gold than we'll ever spend in ten lifetimes, my darling. I think perhaps I might spin something different for a change," he said, his hands stilling against her ivory skin, the cloth forgotten as his thoughts turned to his son and the memories of times spent together at his wheel when Baelfire was a child.

          Belle covered his hand with hers, looking at him over her shoulder and noticing the faraway gleam in his eye. "What is it?"

          Rumpelstiltskin shook himself out of his reverie and resumed his trek across her body with the soapy cloth. "Anyway, I wasn't going to buy that blasted ram. I knew the beast was going to be trouble. I should have known from the simple fact Thatcher all but gave him away. That beast!" he growled, and Belle bit her lip to quell the giggles which rose in her from his tone. "As soon as I opened the pen, the bloody beast butted me right in the midsection and knocked me on my arse. He caused such a commotion it stirred up the rest of them and I was trampled before I could even regain my feet!"

          Her laughter started as a soft snicker and gained in strength as Belle closed her eyes and got a full mental picture of her husband getting trampled by a flock of sheep. "Darling … I'm sorry, but I wish I could have been there to see it. The great Dark One bested by … sheep!"

          "I assure you it wasn't at all funny, dearie," he snarked with a wry quirk of his lips. "But that's not the worst of it. Oh, no. By the way, I bought a dog as well. You can name it later if you wish." He wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her onto his lap as he sat down on the bench which protruded from the wall of the pool.

          "What could have been worse than being trampled by sheep?" she asked, looping her arms about his neck and curling her petite frame against his chest.

          "Everything was fine until we were nearly halfway up the mountain. That bloody b-beast …" His voice trailed off as her short nails circled around his nipple. His eyes darkened as he stared down into her mischievous blue ones, his hand tightening on her hip. She blinked up at him innocently as if to tell him to continue. "Um … it, ah … somehow got away from Marcus and tangled itself around my legs and sent me over the side of the ravine and that's how I ended up covered in mud with more than a damaged ego," he finished, his voice little more than a whisper.

          He trailed his fingertips along the ridge of her spine, smoothing over every bump as he made his way up her back. She moved to straddle his lap, her lips curving into a seductive smile. "And the ram made it all the way back to the Dark Castle without you turning him into something nice and squishable? That's real progress for you, darling," she teased, cradling his face in her hands and brushing the pad of her thumb over his lower lip. "I'd say you had a fairly interesting day."

          He hardened against her where she pressed herself so tightly against him beneath the surface of the water, memories of the last time they'd shared a bath flooding his mind. "And it seems to be getting better."

          Belle smiled against his lips as she molded them to his, her tongue pushing past the seam of his lips to delve into the hot recesses of his mouth, claiming him with all the pent-up passion she'd been repressing since she’d entered the water with him. Her heart thundered in her chest as heat unfurled low in her belly, her flesh pebbling in goosebumps despite the heat of the water lapping gently at her hips. She gasped as his callused spinner's hands traced along her sides and up her ribs to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling the pebbled peaks.

          His chest rumbled in a low growl of appreciation as her hands tightened in his hair and she bucked her hips against him, grinding herself down against his arousal. Her soft as silk hands - hands which had never seen work a day in her life - moved over his chest as her lips trailed along his jaw, her nails scoring his flesh with gentle pressure. He gripped her thighs in a firm grasp as he gave himself over to the delicious sensations she evoked in him as her hands moved lower to tease over his sides and belly, the muscles flexing and contracting under her gentle touch.

          A soft mewling sound escaped her lips as his fingers trailed over her back to curl over her shoulders, his lips finding the hollow at the base of her throat. It was so hard to hold onto the slim control she had over her magicks when he was nipping, suckling and kissing so expertly at her flesh, but somehow, she managed, wanting, no  _needing_  no interference from her power. She wanted to feel all of him without the distraction of their bond. No matter how much it enhanced their pleasure, just this once she needed to feel Rumpelstiltskin the man … not the mage.

          He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and drew her lips down to his, plundering her mouth only to draw back suddenly. "You're holding back, Belle, what is it?" he asked, smoothing his hands over her upper arms in an effort to soothe her. "Have I done something wrong, love?"

          Belle ducked her head to kiss him again, but a finger to her lips kept her back. She sighed, refusing to meet his gaze. "Nothing's wrong," she lied.

          He placed his palm over her heart and lifted her face to his with a finger beneath her chin. "Do you think I can't feel it, sweetling?" His hand moved lower over her breast, cupping it in his hand, drawing a sharp gasp from her as his thumb brushed over the pebbled peak. "I feel you, my Belle. I feel the part of you you're holding away from me just beneath your skin, fighting to break free."

          She whimpered softly as his mouth found the crook of her neck and he bit gently, her flesh reddening as he suckled at it, marking her. "I want to feel you, Rumpel … without my magic getting in the way."

          His heart swelled at her words and he cupped her bottom, bucking his hips against her to relieve some of the discomfort in his swollen cock, straining against her. He lifted his head from her shoulder and captured her gaze, reaching down between them to slip his fingers into her heat. "Look at me, my Belle," he crooned, kissing the corner of her mouth, his fingers moving at an almost languorous pace, teasing her. She pried her eyes open and met his steady gaze, her lower lip trembling with the effort to bank her magic. "Let go. The power is part of you … part of  _us_. Don't hide it from me." Her brow knit with worry, hesitant to heed his warning. "Please, Belle."

          He curled his fingers inside her, rubbing against that certain spot which made her keen, his thumb circling her clit and she broke apart and with her climax, her magic was unleashed in a pure white burst of light. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as she collapsed against his chest, trembling with the overwhelming force of her orgasm, every one of her senses heightened as the magic swept rapidly through her veins. He simply held her, his hands smoothing over her back and sides as she recovered her breath, grinding his teeth over the intense little shocks she emitted to every part of his body she touched.

          She raised her head from his shoulder, finding his lips with hers once more, molding, nipping, devouring, her tongue sliding sinuously along his, her hands buried in his hair as she ground her hips down against his erection and it was his turn to whimper helplessly in her arms. She drew back to whisper one word, "More."

          His expression was a mixture of pleasure and pain as she trailed her hand down his chest, over his stomach and between them, wrapping her fingers around his turgid length, raising her hips and guiding him to her entrance.

          His hands, tightly gripping her hips, guided her down until she was impaled upon him, her walls stretching and shifting to accommodate him. She held herself still, savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him until she couldn't take it any longer and began to move on him. She placed her right palm on his chest over his heart and could feel her magic leap from her fingertips, flowing into him, the pull of his pounding heart irresistible.

          "Belle!" he howled, thrusting up into her as she quickened her pace, her nails scoring his shoulders and back as she rode him. His eyes were heavily lidded with desire as he met her gaze, a bright golden glow alight behind the enormous pupils … her magic evident in them. And for the first time she felt  _his_  magic flow back into her, his darkness mingling with her light and she  _reveled_  in it.

          Belle could feel herself edging closer to her peak, her hidden bundle of nerves hitting him in just the right way with every downward grind of her hips. She cried out as he grasped her about the waist and flipped her, so she was against the bench, her back pressed against the cool marble wall, his cock driving into her with renewed force and she came apart around him, her fluttering walls drawing him deeper into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his thrusts became erratic, a low moan of satisfaction bubbling from her throat as she held tightly to him, holding him close as he tensed beneath her hold and spilled himself within her, biting down on her shoulder to muffle his own cry of completion.

          She held him until his trembling ceased and his arms released the impossibly tight hold he had around her waist and back. Her smile was gamine-like when he raised his head and kissed her softly. He traced the line of her jaw with a bent knuckle and returned it. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

          Belle shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood and carried her from the tub, drying them with a bit of magic and bearing her to their room to lay her down on the bed. "Of course, not," she assured him, curling contentedly into his side as he lay beside her and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

          "You would tell me if I did, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" he asked, a concerned frown puckering his brow.

          She covered her mouth, hiding her yawn and nodded. "I would; I promise." Belle was quiet for several moments, the smile refusing to leave her face as she listened to his breathing even out. "Rumpel?"

          "Hm?" he asked, nearly on the cusp of sleep.

          "Will it always be like this between us?" she asked, her voice slurred with the approach of slumber.

          He turned on his side, pillowing his head against her breastbone and wrapping his arms around her middle. "Dearest, that is something I will endeavor to make so. You may depend upon it."

 


	28. Chapter 28

 

          They'd been married a fortnight when it started; the moodiness, the long bouts of intense concentration and then frenetic energy which had her bouncing all over the castle like a rabid rabbit jacked up on fairy dust. And frankly, Rumpelstiltskin was beginning to worry. At first, he'd put it down to her monthly time, having seen her supplies in the water closet on top of her attempting to sleep in her own room. It had taken a fair amount of persuading, but he'd eventually coaxed her back into the bed they shared. Just because he couldn't touch her for a miserable six days didn't mean he didn't want the pleasure of being able to hold her as she slept.

          He had taken to making his clients come to the castle, loath to leave her in the first weeks of their marriage, the novelty of being newly married after centuries alone - and all it entailed - making him crave her presence. Now he was contemplating seeking out a deal which would take him away from the Dark Castle for several days just so he would be able to rest. A smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he sat there before his spinning wheel, thoughts of his precious wife dancing in his head. Once introduced to the pleasures of their marriage bed, she'd become an insatiable little thing, her appetites rivaling his own. Not that he was complaining, far from it, but he was bloody well exhausted. Which was quite a feat considering, under the effects of his curse, he didn't succumb to mortal fatigue or any other such maladies which seemed to befall humans.

          His eyes followed her as she swept through the Great Hall, the skirt of her rose-colored gown hiked up a bit so she wouldn't trip. His grin widened as his gaze fell appreciatively to the slender turn of her delicate ankles as she hurried past, only to fall when she didn't even acknowledge his presence.  _This is new_ , he thought in irritation. She never failed to offer him a smile or a warm glance when entering a room, usually seeking him out no matter what her preoccupation may be. His brows drew together in befuddlement over her behavior as she disappeared into the corridor leading to the kitchens, but he shrugged, passing it off as nothing and gave the wheel a lazy turn.

          Belle returned moments later, her arms laden with several wrapped bundles and again, she hurried through the room without so much as looking at him. The doors closed behind her with a thud and he tapped his blackened nails against the wheel, vexed over her odd behavior. He glanced down at the snarled tangle of thread in his right hand and cursed. "Lovely," he snarled, rising from his stool and conjuring a tea tray, hoping it would help relax him.

          Belle stormed back through the hall just as he raised his cup to his lips, grabbed the book she'd been searching for on the table beside the settee and left again just as quickly. His eyes narrowed on the doors as they closed behind her, setting his cup down upon the tray. He opened up their bond as wide as it would go and stealthily crept along the edges of her mind, searching for whatever it was that had her in such a state. He recoiled as a blast of white light sent an electrical pulse back through the bond and knocked him flat on his leather-clad arse.

          "Rumpelstiltskin!" Sarah cried in alarm as she came into the room to ask if he was ready for her to serve dinner. "Are you alright?" She rushed to his side as he sat up and gave his head a vigorous shake to clear it.

          He hefted himself to his feet and grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. "I will be, dearie, as soon as I have a few words with my wife," he growled.

          "You sure that's a good idea?" she asked, toying with the frayed edge of the dish cloth slung over her shoulder. "She's been a bit out of sorts today and you know there's no talking to her when she gets like that."

          His bemused gaze swung to her. "Has she said anything to you about what might be troubling her?"

          "No, but she's distracted, she can't be still, and her magic seems off," Sarah informed him, giving the mage a pointed look as if he were somehow at fault.

          He felt like kicking himself for not exploring their bond earlier. Not that he could do so now if he wanted to remain on his feet. "What makes you say that?"

          Sarah sighed heavily, not used to having anyone aside from Belle to answer to, but she knew she couldn't withhold something as important as this from him. "It's been awhile since she's been so upset that she's lost control of her magic. When she came into the kitchen, she was very nearly crackling with it. As she was leaving, after raiding the food locker, the salt and pepper shakers on the worktable exploded and I don't even think she noticed."

          "I'll talk to her. Did you need something?" he asked when she didn't return to the kitchens.

          "Should I hold dinner?"

          "Just use the enchanted covers in the food locker. They'll keep our dinner warm. You and Marcus shouldn't have to wait on us."

          He found her in the library, rummaging through his cabinets, his potion kit on the table next to her. It was the one he used when traveling and needed to bring an assortment of vials with him. "Belle, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. He still wasn't quite comfortable with her going through his potions and cordials. There were things in there he didn't want her exposed to.

          "Have to be ready," she murmured distractedly, placing a packet of headache powders in the case between a cordial for nausea and another for fever.

          "Are we going somewhere?" he asked, slipping his arms about her waist and resting his chin atop her shoulder. He felt hope flicker to life in his chest at the prospect that the time was at hand to leave on their quest to find his son.

          Belle rested her hand atop his where they were clasped about her waist and sighed as she leaned back against his chest. "Yes … no … I don't know!"

          He turned her around in his arms to face him, a worried frown creasing his brow as he took in the anxiety on her features. Her body was nearly humming with unrestrained power. "Belle, love, tell me what's wrong. Let me help you."

          Belle pushed out of his arms and closed the lid on the potion case before packing it away into a rucksack. The case shouldn't have been able to fit in the sack and he could only assume she'd bewitched it with a charm to expand its interior. She'd be able to pack an endless number of things in there and only need one traveling bag to bring with her … _them_ … There was no way he was letting her go  _anywhere_  alone. They were in this together.

          "You can't, Rumpel —"

          "Of course, I can!" he objected.

          "No, you can't … not when I don't know what's wrong," she interjected, her shoulders drooping as she lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to snap at you."

          He swept her up into his arms and set her on the edge of the table, his large hands cupping her neck and his thumbs rubbing gently at her pulse points as he made her meet his gaze. "That's it, my Belle, deep breaths," he commanded in a gentle, soothing tone. "Open the bond and let me feel you." He pressed a tender kiss to her lips and she sighed happily as she removed the blockage on her end of their bond. He swept in hurriedly before she lost her focus and flooded her with calm, soothing her upset from the inside out. "Better?"

          "Mhmm," she hummed, giving herself over to him completely. She dragged her skirts up over her knees and hooked her heels around his thighs, pulling him forward to stand between her legs so she could wrap herself around him.

          He bit down on his lip to stifle a moan as her heat came in contact with his groin, refusing to let his desire get in the way. He needed to help her relax, to rein in her magic and get over her upset. "Now tell me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple as he held her, his long spinner's fingers stroking through her hair.

          She melted into him, her arms and legs loosely wrapped around him as he petted and stroked her hair. She could feel his love pulse through their bond, calming and soothing her and the coiled knot of tension in her abdomen loosened for the first time in days. The first curling dark tendril of his magic at the edges of her mind made her recoil slightly and she stiffened, not wanting him to have to experience the riot of emotion swirling in her mind.

          "I won't hurt you, love. Won't you let me in? If you can't talk about it —" His voice trailed off as she relaxed once more against his chest, giving her the time she needed without intruding again.

          "I know," she murmured, dropping a lingering kiss to the hollow of his throat. "I just don't know how to explain what's bothering me. I have this feeling."

          "A feeling? Like a premonition?" he asked, pulling away just a bit to raise her chin so he could look into her eyes. It was possible she might have gained part of his precognition gift through their binding, he thought miserably.

          She shook her head. "No, more of a feeling that something is going to happen."

          His brows drew together low over his eyes as he studied her. "Are you in pain?"

          "No," she assured him, rubbing a hand over her stomach where the knot of tension seemed to emanate. "It's more like a big ball of apprehension right here." She moved his hand to rest against her abdomen and then placed hers over it, opening the bond a bit wider so he could feel a part of what had her so wound up.

          "How do you feel right now? Do you think you could eat a bit of dinner? I have a potion that will help you relax and sleep through the night without this keeping you up," he said, pressing a kiss to her brow.

          She nodded, taking his hand as he helped her from the table, so they could walk down to the kitchen. "Rumpel, what if this has to do with Bae? Do you think this is what we've been waiting for? This has been steadily getting worse for the better part of a week. It's why I've been trying to gather everything we'll need for our journey," she told him, gesturing to the open rucksack. "I thought it would be best to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice."

          "You've been packing?" he asked, tucking her against his side and looping his arm around her shoulder as they stepped out into the corridor at the bottom of the stairs.

          "Yes, just a few things I thought we might need."

          "A few things?" He arched a brow, wondering what a princess would think was a  _few_  things.

          "You know … um … necessary potions, a few changes of clothes, several sacks of gold, food … maybe a few books," she said, her lips twitching mischievously.

          "Because you'll have so much time to read on this trip, hm?" he teased, rolling his eyes.

          "Of course, Rum; there's always time for a good book."

 

*.*.*

 

          They never made it farther than the entrance hall. Belle collapsed in his arms, clutching at her stomach, her eyes glowing with a golden light as she let out an agonized moan which pierced him to his soul. "Belle!" he cried as he caught her, holding her upright against him.

          "I-I know w-what it is," she gasped, her head falling back so she could look up at him. Her smile caught him off guard and he stumbled, bringing them both to their knees next to the double doors leading into the Great Hall. "W-Winter said I would k-know."

          "Belle? Know what?"

          She waved away his questions and said, "Quickly! Can you summon our bag and cloaks to us? There's not a moment to waste." She could already feel the air crackling and shifting restlessly around her.

          Rumpelstiltskin's stomach clenched with fear, but he pushed it aside to do as she'd asked. He clasped her black cloak with its ermine lining about her throat with his shaking hands, making certain it was secure before fastening his own about his shoulders and hoisting the rucksack onto his back. Already she was holding her hands out before her impatiently, her eyes alight with excitement.

          Belle smiled up at him as she waited, the coiled knot of tension no longer plaguing her. It had burst outward through her, sending her magic spiraling and swirling through her blood. She'd never felt more powerful and she knew without a doubt this was the moment they'd been waiting for. And though her husband appeared outwardly calm as he reached up to place his palm against hers, through the bond she could feel his fear … a deep gut-wrenching fear unlike any she'd ever felt before.

          "Rumpelstiltskin! Focus on me," she cried, her voice rising as their magics … white and dark … fused together and merged into one. The air around them swirled, whipping her unbound hair about her head. His eyes widened incredulously, and his left hand froze mere inches from her right, his gaze darting between his left and the twined fingers of his right.

          Memories of the churning green vortex which had taken his boy from him, flooded his mind and suddenly he was afraid. What if it this one took Belle from him? This is what they'd been waiting for, what Winter had promised him from the beginning … to be reunited with his son, that Belle would be the catalyst. But he couldn't do it if he would lose his precious wife … he wouldn't.

          "Belle, I can't"

          "Yes, you can. Now give me your hand and help me open the portal," she cried, frowning when he still hesitated. He struggled against their tightly bound hands, paling beneath his green gold skin as she reached out and grabbed his left, leaving him no choice.

          "I don't want to lose you!" he howled as the air thickened and swirled faster about them.

          "You won't! Just don't let go!"

          As if he could, he thought desperately. Their magic fused them together just as surely as if someone had poured glue over their hands.

          "You can do this, Rum. Just have faith," she implored.

          What little courage he possessed asserted itself in the face of Belle's bravery and the belief she had in him, and he squared his shoulders with determination. This was for his boy. Somehow, he would find his Baelfire and protect Belle as well. They were his … his family, his hope, his future. He would be brave for them. And then the floor gave way beneath their feet and he could feel himself falling … falling … falling into the abyss of churning, swirling, purple and crimson mist.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin groaned as the smell of decaying leaves assailed his nose. He was lying on a hard surface and he could feel the chill seeping into his old bones. For a moment his mind was a complete blank and it made him wonder if he'd drunk so much he hadn't been able to make it home so Belle could help him to bed and … _Belle!_

          "Belle!" he called as he pushed himself up to his knees, his eyes searching through the darkness for his wife.  _No, no, no, no, no!_  He'd had a vise-like grip on her hand. How could they have become separated? "Belle!"

          A low moan sounded off to his left where she'd landed a good twenty feet away from him in a low ditch. He scrambled to her side and searched her for injuries, fighting off the dizziness which made his head swim and his stomach churn.

          Belle sucked in a sharp breath as his hands brushed over her breasts. "Really, darling," she whispered breathlessly, "now isn't the best time to get … frisky."

          He yanked her up into his arms, crushing her against his chest as relief flooded him. If she was well enough to joke with him, she couldn't be hurt, he reasoned. "If I was in a lusty mood, you'd know it, sweetheart," he returned. He cupped her face in his warm palms and pressed a kiss to her brow, his relief so great it nearly staggered him. "Are you hurt?"

          "I'm fine, darling," she assured him. "Just a bruised bottom perhaps." She winced, allowing him to help her to her feet.

          Pain shot through his right leg and he hissed, the old wound making itself known. With a thought, he sent a wisp of magic into the appendage, his eyes widening when it didn't respond immediately to his command. "Belle, my magic's not working right."

          "Don't you feel it? It's like a low hum instead of a steady burn beneath your skin." She linked her fingers with his. "Now try."

          He cast her a skeptical glance, but called on his magic again and this time it responded. It was then he remembered Winter telling them they'd have to be cautious in the new land and their powers would only work together through their bond. It would be the only way to return to their home. He focused on Belle as she gasped. "What? What is it?" he asked, glancing around warily.

          "Your face," she said, reaching up to caress his stubbled jaw. "Y-Your beautiful golden skin … it's gone."

          The moon peeked out from behind the cover of clouds and shone down on them, making it easier for him to see what had her so alarmed. He held his hand up before him and frowned down at the very human pinkness of his skin. He searched into the very inner recesses of his mind, concentrating deeply on the spirit which lurked there and unable to find it. "My curse must be dormant here. I can't hear …"

          "Doesn't matter. You still have your magic. Frankly, it will probably be easier to accomplish our task without that demon whispering in your ear," she said softly, unable to take her eyes from the warm sable orbs staring back at her.

          He tore his gaze away from hers, his ears pricking with the sound of carriage wheels, and he pulled her deeper into the shadows until it had passed. "If it weren't for the lack of magic in the air, I would think we were still in the Enchanted Forest. We're in the middle of nowhere!" he growled. "How are we supposed to find Baelfire if we don't know where we are?"

          Belle shrugged, at a loss. "I don't know, Rum, but apparently, this is where we are supposed to be."

          "How can you be so certain, hm? You've been here before, have you?" he snarked impatiently at her. "For all we know, that blasted enchantress has tricked us again!"

          Belle clasped her hands in front of her as he paced away from her, winding himself into a lovely rant. She closed her eyes, listening to the forest surrounding them and hoping it would give her an answer. This was where the magic had brought them to begin their search and she couldn't dismiss it as another of Winter's tricks. There was no breeze, the air almost stagnant and the absence of sound even by the smallest forest creature gave her cause for alarm. All things her sorcerer husband would be able to sense himself if he would cease his tirade.

          "Rumpel …"

          "… blasted witch. If I ever get home, I'm going to stick her head on a pike on the front gate!"

          "Rumpelstiltskin!"

          "What?!"

          She brushed aside his rudeness and reached for his hand, suddenly afraid. "Listen."

          He calmed enough to feel her trepidation and fear flooding through their bond and his own heart rate sped up. He pulled her behind him as all the things she'd heard in her quiet moment registered on him. "Something's coming, Belle," he whispered, his breath misting in the sudden cold.

          "Maybe w-we should g-go," she stammered, her teeth chattering violently as a shiver tripped up her spine.

          The wind blew violently into the clearing on either side of the dirt road, whipping the scattered autumn leaves into a frenzy of small whirlwinds and the smell of ozone permeated the air. Not ozone, she thought wildly … magic. Her hands fisted in the back of his cloak and she whimpered, pressing her face between his shoulder blades, her courage fleeing. A flash of green light left her blinking against the glare and then she was being knocked to the ground, her husband rolling atop her to protect her with his own body. They rolled down the slight embankment where she ended up sprawled across his chest.

          Belle groaned, every bone in her body aching, but her groans weren't the only sounds reaching her ears and her eyes widened. There was scuffling and rustling in the dead leaves and it was neither her nor her husband who lay still beneath her. She sat up quickly, her nose bumping a smaller one as she came face to face with a teenage boy. His eyes were as wide as hers, he apparently feeling the same surprise which coursed through her.

          "I'm so sorry, ma'am! I didn't mean … I mean … I'm not usually so clumsy," the boy stuttered, looking down at his hands, his cheeks reddening in the faint moonlight. Then he froze, looking down into a pair of familiar brown eyes he'd never thought to see again. "Papa!"

          Belle scooted back across the damp leaves on her butt in an effort to keep from being trampled by her husband as he pushed himself to his knees and pulled the boy into his arms, tears streaming down his face as he stared dumbfounded at his son. She could feel tears well in her own eyes to see the love, relief and happiness so evident on Rumpelstiltskin's features.

          Baelfire clung to his father, disbelief shining in the depths of his dark eyes. "Papa, how? You let go and I fell, and I couldn't find you," he rushed to explain. "How could you have gotten here first? And you're in different clothes." His intelligent gaze narrowed suspiciously. "What's going on? And who is she?" he asked, pointing a shaking finger at Belle.

          Belle paled, wondering how her usually articulate husband was going to explain himself. "Rumpel, it's getting colder. We need to find shelter for the night; somewhere warm where you can sit down and explain everything to your son," she said, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. She offered Baelfire a warm smile. "And I, young man, am Belle. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you."

          "Did you come through the portal, too?" her stepson asked, his brow furrowed questioningly, clearly confused as to how it could have happened.

          "In a manner of speaking," she hedged.

          Rumpelstiltskin guided them to the side of the road and ushered them ahead of him. "Let us just find an inn and get warm before the two of you catch your death."

 

*.*.*

 

          "What fresh hell is this?!" Rumpelstiltskin cursed, pulling Belle closer to the storefront as a ruffian rushed past and nearly collided with her.

          Baelfire stuck close to his father's other side, his gaze taking in everything at once. "I've never seen so much foot traffic, Papa, even in Longborne," he said, remembering the few times he and his father had gone to the large city to sell wool, cloth and the fine thread Rumpelstiltskin had made as a spinner.

          Belle narrowed her eyes across the busy street at the tall building several stories high. "There, Rumpel. We might be able to find a room for the night."

          "How do you know?"

          "Luggage," she pointed, smiling brightly. She didn't begrudge his lack of perception as she could still feel the riot of fear and doubt flickering through the bond. He was terrified at the prospect of having to explain his actions to his son and worse yet, how Baelfire was going to react.

          The doorman looked down his nose at the trio as they approached, and Belle paused to dig in the rucksack for a pouch of gold, slipping several coins into the doorman's hand. Rumpelstiltskin sneered at the man's wide eyes and slack jaw as Belle tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and pulled him inside. Baelfire was too busy taking in all the strange sights to worry about anything except keeping up with his father and the strange woman who seemed to have latched onto him.

          A tall thin man with a curling moustache and dark slicked back hair stood behind the front desk as they approached, a snide smirk on his thin lips. "Welcome to the Albany Hotel, how may I assist you?"

          Rumpelstiltskin met the man's eyes, trying to be civil and courteous for his son's sake. "We require a room for the night."

          The man's beady eyes flickered appreciatively over Belle and then moved over Baelfire's shabby garments, his mouth curling into an expression of distaste before coming to rest on Rumpelstiltskin once more. "I'm sorry, but we seem to have no vacancies."

          Belle squeezed her husband's arm as she felt the magic hum dangerously beneath his skin and turned her smiling blue eyes on the clerk. "Is there perhaps another hostelry where you might direct us?" she asked, flashing him a demure smile. She knew the little toad was lying to them as she'd seen three separate guests check out, their luggage being loaded into carriages while she'd watched from across the street.

          "I can think of none offhand, madam," he retorted in a dry tone.

          She leaned over and confided to her husband in a loud whisper, "I do believe this one reminds me of Alastair."

          "What was that, dearest?" he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously at her cleverness. Oh, what a little actress his wife could be. He couldn't wait to see where she was going with this.

          "Alastair, the queen's bodyguard. He's snooty like this fellow here," she sniffed haughtily, every bit the princess, pretending as though the man wasn't hanging on her every word.

          He had to bite his lip to stifle the laughter threatening to spill forth from his mouth. For one, Belle had never met Regina and two, the queen didn't have a bodyguard, much less one named Alastair.

          Belle wanted to reach over and close the odious little man's mouth for him before a fly landed on his tongue, but thought better of it. "I suppose we'll have to seek out another establishment to meet our needs, husband," she said with a dramatic sigh, making sure her purse full of coins jingled merrily.

          "You know, milady, I do believe we … um … have one room left … a suite," he trilled, all politeness and good manners coming to the fore with a brilliant smile. He pushed the registration log towards Rumpelstiltskin and snapped his fingers, a bellboy rushing forward to take their luggage.

          The sorcerer glared menacingly at the boy until he backed off. "Thanks, I think I'll keep this with me," he growled. Belle pressed several coins into the clerk's hand as the bellboy took the key and led them towards the ornate grand staircase in the center of the lobby.

          Baelfire trailed along after his parents and whispered to his father, "What queen?"

          "Later."

          "But, Papa, we —"

          Rumpelstiltskin wrapped his free arm around his son's shoulder and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Later, Bae," he hissed in the boy's ear with a smile. He was thinking Baelfire would get along splendidly with his new wife, for he didn't know two more curious and inquisitive creatures in all the realms.

          The mage let Belle deal with the bellboy while he and Bae explored the room. There were two rooms, one on either end of the suite with a large bathing chamber and sitting room taking up the center areas and a spacious balcony which overlooked the square below. He came back into the sitting room after glancing appreciatively around the room he would share with his wife to find her still giving instructions to the bellboy.

          "I need ready-made clothes for my son," she was saying.

          "Papa! There's running water from the tap in here," Baelfire called from the bathing chamber.

          "… also I'd like to be able to take dinner here in our room. Perhaps some roast pheasant if the chef is amenable?" she continued. The bellboy just nodded and accepted the gold she pressed into his hands.

          "Why is the soap shaped like little frogs?"

          Rumpelstiltskin slapped a hand to his brow and raked it the length of his face, collapsing on the settee and shaking his head at his son. "Just take a bath if you're so fascinated by modern plumbing!" he called back.

          Belle leaned back against the closed door and huffed out a laugh. "Thank Freja that's over!" She pushed away from the door and went to sit beside her husband, curling into his side and resting her head against his shoulder. "I am so exhausted."

          He pressed a kiss to her brow and rested his head against her crown as they listened to Baelfire splash around in the tub through the closed door. "So am I, sweetheart. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

          Belle turned her face up to his and pressed her lips to his, melting into his embrace and offering him comfort for the difficult task which lay ahead of him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along her lower lip until she opened for him.

          She gasped as she heard a voice ask, "Papa, why are you kissing Belle?" His face flushed with embarrassment and he lowered his eyes, a sheepish grin quirking up the corners of his mouth. "I think now would be a really good time for that explanation you promised."

 


	29. Chapter 29

 

          Rumpelstiltskin dropped his hands away from his wife as if he'd been scorched, the color riding high in his cheeks as he turned to meet his son's inquisitive stare. Over the last three centuries, nearly every waking moment had been devoted to finding Baelfire. The guilt and remorse he’d suffered over letting his boy go which weighed him down had kept him from dwelling overmuch on what he would say when he finally found him. Nearly every conversation he'd had in his head with the boy had ended badly, and now faced with reality, he found his usually articulate tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

          "He's my True Love," Belle said softly, twining her fingers with his as she looked over at her stepson and the surprise blossoming on his face. "Baelfire, I know this is hard for you to take in, but once your father has explained, I —"

          Her voice trailed away, startling at the soft knock on the door of the suite. Baelfire's attention focused there and his stomach rumbled loudly. "Um … please tell me that's the dinner you ordered for us. I'm starving!" He followed Belle across the room, leaving Rumpelstiltskin on the sofa to drop his head dejectedly into his hands.

          Belle let the bellboy in, the same one she'd tipped so generously a mere hour ago, and watched silently as he set out their dinner on the small dining table set near the balcony. When he'd finished, he withdrew a small parcel from beneath his cart and handed it to her. "I-I was able to find a nightshirt for your son, milady, but I won't be able to visit the tailor's until he opens in the morning. B-But I'm sure he'll have something ready-made that I can purchase for you with the gold you gave me," he stammered nervously, sneaking a wary glance at the lady's husband.

          Without turning, Belle could feel the intimidating glare Rumpelstiltskin was casting at the poor boy. He may not be the fearsome Dark One here in this land, but he still exuded the raw power which made men fear him. She thanked the boy and sent him on his way as her husband waited beside the table for her, scowling at Baelfire when he flopped down into his seat.

          "Son, where are your manners?" he admonished, holding out Belle's chair for her before he took his own seat. "I taught you better than that."

          Baelfire ducked his head, flushing with embarrassment and offered, "I'm sorry, Belle."

          "It's no matter. You've been through quite an ordeal and I'm certain you didn't do it apurpose." She smiled brightly at him and cut into the succulent roasted pheasant on her plate.

          Baelfire tucked into his own dinner, moaning appreciatively as he took a large bite of the mushroom stuffing and wild rice. He'd never eaten so well, in his opinion, and he didn't know if it was the new and interesting food before him or the fact that he was starving. He looked over at his father and frowned. Rumpelstiltskin was merely picking at the food, his brows drawn in a worried frown.

          "So, what happened after I fell through the portal? I thought it had closed after me … how did you get here before me?" Baelfire asked curiously, taking a large swallow from his water goblet. He wasn't encouraged seeing his father's Adam's apple bob convulsively in his throat and sweat bead his upper lip, sure signs his father was hiding something. He set his fork down beside his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. "You didn't come through with me, did you?"

          Rumpelstiltskin set his fork down and raised his eyes to meet his son's anxious gaze. "No, I didn't," he acknowledged in a tone filled with all the guilt, remorse and self-loathing he'd been plagued with for three hundred years. But he refused to lie to his boy now that he'd finally found him, no matter how painful this conversation was going to be. "I was afraid."

          "You chose the dagger … your  _power_ ," he sneered with a shake of his head, "over me."

          "You don't understand, Bae. I was afraid of becoming the man I had been, the lame spinner who couldn't protect you. I didn't want to be that weak coward anymore!" he spat, his voice rising.

          Belle covered his right hand with her left and glanced between the two. He squeezed her fingers, clinging to his light in the darkness to see him through this. The hope she had for their reconciliation rose in her breast as she glanced again at Baelfire and saw the sympathetic look which crossed his features as he stared silently at his father.

          "Papa, I don't care about that. I just wanted you back. You couldn't see what this curse was doing to you. It was making you do the most horrible things, things you never would have done if you'd never taken this power. It made you obsessed for _more_ power and that's all you seemed to care for. I —"

          "I took on that curse for you, Bae … to protect you," Rumpelstiltskin said heatedly. "Here, in this land you were so intent on banishing us to, I would have been powerless, weak … a coward once again."

          "It doesn't matter! We would have been together," Baelfire protested, falling silent as he picked up his fork again to resume eating. It was the same argument he'd had with his father just yesterday at the rough-hewn wooden table in their cottage over their evening meal and he knew he was wasting his breath. "So how did you find me if you didn't come through the portal? The fairy said the bean she gave me was the last one in the entire realm."

          Rumpel pushed his plate away in disgust and leaned back in his chair, his visage twisted into a grimace. "It was. After the portal closed … after I lost you," he choked out around the lump of emotion which turned his voice raspy and broken, "I dedicated my life to finding a way to this land. Actually, I'm happy you weren't there to see what I became in my desperation to find you."

          "You speak as though it took you years to find me. Papa, I just saw you not twelve hours ago," Baelfire retorted with a snort.

          Rumpel groaned inwardly. "It took me almost three hundred years to find you, son," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I traveled so many paths, dark paths. I did unspeakable things, letting the Dark One spur me on in hopes that somehow, I would find something that would bring me to you. It wasn't until the Dark One's guardian, an enchantress, Winter, told me of a girl, a child who hadn't even been born yet. She told me this girl would lead me to my son … that she would restore my humanity and bring me happiness. She was the key."

          Baelfire pushed his half-empty plate to the side, his gaze swinging to Belle. "Belle? She was the girl?" he asked. He felt numb, disbelief clearly written in his large dark eyes.

          Belle nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears and the pain emanating from her husband through their bond. "It's true. My father called on him to save my mother who was dying from a hard labor. She was too far gone, however, but he  _was_  able to save  _me_. He made a deal with my father … that he would save me if he could claim me as his bride on my eighteenth birthday."

          "Just what is so special about you?"

          "Baelfire!"

          "I'm sorry, Papa, but I'm trying to understand. What makes her so unique? Couldn't you have chosen any girl in the realm?" he asked, his brow furrowed in a dark frown.

          Rumpelstiltskin raked a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "Belle is a True Love baby, magical in her own right … not that I knew this at the time. Winter has a tendency to leave out important facts when she's manipulating you to do what she wants," he sighed bitterly.

          Baelfire's lip curled in a scornful sneer. "So, you used her."

          Belle's quick indrawn breath of outrage caused Rumpelstiltskin's eyes to narrow dangerously on his son. "No, Baelfire, I did not use her. It was my intention from the beginning, but after I got to know her, she became my everything. She was no longer a tool to help me find you. I love her!" he hissed furiously. "She gave up everything to be with me, took on a part of my curse to insure it and did everything she could to bring us to this point in time to find you. I owe her more than I can ever repay."

          Belle rose from the table and ushered them into the sitting room again, following after them with the tea tray from the cart which now held their dirty dishes. She poured tea into the three cups and handed one to her husband, hoping the brew would help to soothe his frayed edges. Baelfire stared down into his own cup, his thoughts a jumbled mess as he tried to sort through his father's revelations.

          "It doesn't matter, Papa," he said finally. "We're here and we're together. We no longer have to worry about the curse."

          Belle winced, glancing at Rumpelstiltskin from the corner of her eye. His cup was poised halfway to his lips and a panicked expression was slowly stealing over his face. "I'm still under the effects of the curse, Bae. There's no breaking it no matter what land we find ourselves in."

          Bae shot to his feet, betrayal shining in the depths of his mocha eyes. "But Rhuel Ghorm said —"

          "She lied to you, Bae. The only way to break the curse is to kill me with the dagger and take on the power for yourself. Even here, weak though it may be, I still have my magic," he said, lowering his eyes, unable to look at the hurt on his son's face. "Tomorrow we'll be going home, so the point is moot."

          Baelfire glared at his father. "So, we go back to the enchanted forest and you continue your reign of terror as the Dark One," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Deals and tricks and desperate souls. And what if I don't want to go back?"

          "You don't have a choice!"

          "Rumpel!" Belle cried, setting her cup aside and bounding to her feet, stepping between them.

          "See! You haven't changed a bit," Baelfire yelled furiously, color suffusing his face as he stood toe to toe with his father, Belle caught between them. "You still want to lock me away in a cage to protect me. I'm fifteen, a man in my own right, not a child you can't let out of your sight. I want a normal life and we can't have that there if you're afraid your enemies are going to come and steal me away, or turn a man into a snail because he looks down his nose at me. I won't do it again!"

          The fight went out of the mage as he stepped around Belle and gripped his son's shoulders in a firm grasp. "It won't be like that again, Bae … I promise. You'll have as normal a life as I can provide for you," he vowed, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm not the same man I was, son. Belle … her love … it changed me. Come home and let me prove it? Please?" he asked, his eyes begging his son to see the truth of his words. "I love you, Baelfire. Just give me a chance to show you I can be the Dark One  _and_  your father."

          Baelfire looked down, his hands fidgeting with the belt of his borrowed robe as he debated with himself. "What if you can't?" he asked in a small voice. "What if you can't be both?"

          "Then we'll decide what to do together … even if it means I have to let you go."

          The boy glanced up into his father's tear-filled eyes, staring at him as if he didn't know him at all. "Y-You mean it? You'd r-really let me go … after all this?"

          Rumpelstiltskin bit back a groan and nodded. "If you're unhappy with me once we get home, I'll let you go. As you said, you're a man now and you have a right to make your own way. I admit I want you to live with me for a few more years, but there's always a compromise to be made."

          "A deal, you mean."

          "No, no more deals with you, son. A compromise," the man insisted. "And you know I never break my word."

          Baelfire tilted his head to the side and studied his father before nodding. "Can I sleep on it? Give you my answer in the morning?"

          "Bae …" Rumpelstiltskin groaned.

          "I think that's a splendid idea, Baelfire. You have a lot to think about and I'm sure your papa will give you the time you need to make your decision," Belle interjected before another argument could ensue. She retrieved the parcel with the nightshirt in it and pressed it into his hands, smiling warmly. "We'll have much to discuss in the morning."

          The door to Baelfire's room had barely closed when Rumpelstiltskin pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as a ragged sob tore from his throat. "I failed, Belle. I just made things worse," he moaned in a broken whisper.

          She led him over to the sofa and made him sit, pulling him back into her arms, her delicate hands weaving in and out of his soft, straight hair and then over his back as she whispered soothing words of nonsense in his ear. "Rumpel, no, don't think that way. You were honest and straightforward with him," she crooned, pressing her lips to his brow. "You just have to keep trying with him. There are going to be questions which arise that only you can answer. Don't keep anything from him … be honest and the two of you will work through this."

          "What if he decides he wants to stay in this land?" he asked, raising his worried eyes to hers.

          Belle bit her lip, considering the ramifications of such a decision. "Then we'll stay," she said finally. "We'll make a home here for his sake. It doesn't matter where we are, darling, as long as we're together … our own little family."

          "You would do that?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. "You would sacrifice our home, your friends …."

          She tightened her arms around his shoulders and smiled tenderly. "Of course, my love. I want you to do what is necessary to mend this rift between you. It doesn't matter a bit where we are as long as we're together."

          He cradled her face in his palms and brought his mouth down to hers, brushing gently back and forth before capturing her top lip between his own, trying to convey without words the depth of his love for her. "I love you so much, my Belle."

          "I love you, too," she sighed, resting her brow to his. "Would you like me to show you as I did that day in the ballroom? I think it might make it easier for you to rest tonight."

          He closed his eyes, remembering the day she'd first opened up the tenuous bond between them and let her love flow into him. He wanted it so much … more than air … but something niggled at the back of his mind, holding him back from immediately accepting her offer. "I do …"

          "But?"

          He huffed a soft laugh at her perception. "I need to know something first," he said, meeting her imploring gaze. "How is it that our portal brought us here just minutes before Bae arrived in this land? How is it possible?"

          Belle fidgeted, her fingers twisting the leather ties of his waistcoat. "I don't know, really. But as we were walking here to the hotel, I thought about it quite a bit."

          He placed one long finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his, kissing the tip of her pert little nose. "Tell me, my brilliant wife; what do you think happened?"

          "Well, really we could have traveled anywhere in his timeline, but when the portal opened, I could only picture him one way in my mind. I remembered the stories from your letters and all I could see in my mind's eye was the fifteen-year-old boy he had been when you lost him and how much easier it would be to reconcile with him if you were waiting for him when his portal opened. Does that make sense? I don't truly understand how the dynamics of our magic works yet, so I can't explain it," she said, praying he could understand her rambling thoughts.

          Rumpelstiltskin rose to his feet and pulled her up with him, sweeping her into his arms to carry him into their room. "You are an amazing woman and I thank the gods you are  _mine_ ," he said fiercely, his lips descending to hers in a fiery kiss which made her bones turn molten and flood her veins with fire. "No one has ever put my needs first, Belle … even needs I never thought to have."

          She sighed happily as he laid her on the bed and moved to take off her boots, his hands gently massaging her calves as her eyes drifted closed. "Fate's a fickle mistress. I'm just happy she decided to bless us."

 

*.*.*

("Things That Go Bump in the Night" o/s)

*.*.*

 

          Belle closed the bedroom door behind her, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb her husband. After Baelfire had walked in on them last night in the middle of their lovemaking, she had refused to take the chance of it happening again … much to her husband's chagrin. He'd tossed and turned for hours before finally settling into a restless sleep. She covered her yawn with a hand as she moved towards the sitting room, stopping in mid-stride as she saw her stepson sitting at the table tucking into a large plate of sausages, eggs and toast, his face flushing a deep red as his eyes met hers. She could feel the heat rising in her own face.

          "Morning, Belle," he mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "I ordered breakfast when the bellboy brought my new clothes."

          She noticed the cart and brightened, seeing the tea tray, steam curling from the spout. Pouring herself a cup of the aromatic brew, she added honey and lemon and sat down at the table with her stepson. She surveyed him as she sipped at her tea, taking note of his downcast eyes. "How did you sleep?" she asked with a quirk of her brow. "Did your Papa and I give you nightmares?"

          A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his empty plate away and reached for his own cup of tea. "Um … no, thankfully," he blushed again. If he lived to be a hundred, he doubted he'd ever be able to erase the picture of his parents having sex from his mind. And he would assuredly never enter another room without knocking.

          "It's not exactly how I envisioned our first night together as a family," she grimaced slightly, smiling at the boy, "but it is what it is."

          "Papa still asleep?"

          "He is. He didn't sleep well last night so I didn't want to wake him. Besides, this will give us a chance to talk, you and I."

          Baelfire shifted uneasily under her careful scrutiny. "What do you want to talk about, Belle?"

          She rose and lifted the cover from one of the plates on the cart, pleased to find one with toast and fruit, carrying it back to the table. "How about I ask you a question and then you can ask me one? Try to get to know each other a little better, perhaps? I don't see why you and I can't become very good friends."

          He rubbed his hands on the legs of his new trousers nervously and nodded. "Sure, I guess."

          Belle tilted her head to the side, regarding him steadily and he looked away, feeling as if she were trying to look into the darkest parts of his soul and strip it away. He could tell it would be hard to get anything past her. "Are you going home with us?"

          He gulped. Talk about diving into the heart of the matter, he thought glumly. "Yeah, I am. Papa … I've never seen him willing to budge on anything once his mind is made up, and last night when he offered a compromise … well that convinced me he was actually willing to listen to me. I think he deserves to have me meet him halfway."

          Belle was inwardly cheering with giddiness. She hadn't been looking forward to remaining in a land without magic no matter what she'd told Rumpelstiltskin. "You are everything to him, Baelfire … his hope, especially. He was lost for so long," she said, her voice holding an edge of sadness. "I know it will be a struggle, but I think one day you will see how much he's sacrificed for you. But you also have to take into consideration the fear which is ingrained in him. It causes him to act rashly. He later regrets it, but you can't let his faults dissuade you. You have to understand he will do anything to protect his family, whether we agree with his choices or not. Because of the curse, the entity he shares his body with, it will make him prone to the darkness.  _We_  are the only thing which can keep him in the light."

          Baelfire stared at her as if truly seeing her for the first time, amazed at the insight she had into his father's mind … an insight even he didn't have. Rumpelstiltskin had never shared anything with him about the curse aside from the knowledge of the kris and his obsession with power. "Why did you marry my papa?" he queried, clearing away some of the emotion lodged in his throat.

          Belle chewed thoughtfully on a piece of melon, her answer honest and sincere as she met his eyes. "I love him, Bae. More than I ever thought I  _could_ love another person. He's the most important thing in the world to me and now," she said, reaching out and taking his hand, "so are you."

          His curiosity was so great, he forgot it was her turn to question him, but Belle didn't care now that she'd gotten the boy to talk with her. "But he made a deal for you. Everyone is forced to honor Papa's deals. How could you have been so accepting of that? To have your husband chosen for you like that?"

          The tinkling sound of her laughter filled the room. "I was a princess, Bae. Either way, my husband would have been chosen for me. But it was a bit more complicated than that. This deal my father made … well he'd always hoped to find some way out of it and, therefore, didn't tell me about it. I found out by accident and to be honest, I was quite furious."

          "What did you do?" he asked, propping his chin in his hand, entranced with her tale.

          "Well," she grinned, “after I lambasted my father for his duplicity, I wrote to your father, insisting he meet with me to discuss the deal. Surely, there was something else he could want besides me. But he was stubbornly unrelenting and declared the deal would be upheld. He couldn't meet with me because, in a moment of insanity, my father had stated in the contract that Rumpel wasn't allowed to  _see_ me until the wedding and your papa agreed. A decision he later came to regret."

          "How could he meet with you if he couldn't see you?" the boy asked, a puzzled frown on his brow.

          "We found a way around that, but in the meantime, we decided to get to know one another through a series of letters. Although, I have to say, I wasn't at all impressed with the reply he sent to my first inquiry," she smirked.

          "Why?" he asked, grinning, just knowing it had to be awful if his father had thought she'd been trying to renege on a deal with him.

          "I had sent him a detailed letter, explaining the reason I wanted to meet, and his reply was 'no one breaks deals with me, dearie'," she said, laughing again. "I was so angry. But the more I corresponded with him, the more I couldn't deny the truth. I was falling in love with him … a man I'd never set eyes upon with a reputation as the evilest being in the realm. But he let me see into his heart, through his letters. He let me see the man he'd been before he lost you. He made himself vulnerable to me, trusted me with his secrets … secrets no one had ever been privy to, I'm sure. And I couldn't help but fall in love with him."

          "And you never got to see him before the wedding? At all?"

          She grinned unrepentantly. "Of course, I did. I found a way around that asinine contract. Just because he couldn't see me didn't mean I couldn't see him."

          "What did you do?" he asked, rising to pour himself another cup of tea.

          "She insisted I come to her and then made me wear a blindfold," Rumpelstiltskin said, having been listening from the open doorway of the bedroom. He'd awoken to find Belle missing from his side and immediately set out in search of her, surprised to see the easy camaraderie between his wife and son. He leaned down to kiss her cheek before pouring a cup of tea and filling a plate with breakfast foods.

          Baelfire laughed at his father's chagrined expression. "I just can't see the feared Dark One wearing a blindfold to pay court to a girl. Actually, I can't see you paying court period."

          Rumpelstiltskin smiled over the rim of his cup. "Well, I find it difficult to deny her," he admitted ruefully.

          The boy's jaw dropped at his father's ready admission and his gaze swung between his parents and the tender look which passed between them. He shook his head and asked, "So how did that work?"

          "Well, he would come to see me several times a month … blindfolded to uphold his end of the contract, of course … and then he would pay formal court to me in the presence of my father once a month. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but it was better than not spending time with him at all. And I wanted to show my father Rumpel really does love me."

          "Yes, sweetheart, it worked brilliantly until your father decided to poison me," Rumpelstiltskin admitted with a wry twist of his lips.

          "Poison?!" Baelfire gasped, horrified. "I didn't think you were susceptible to poison."

          "I can't die from it, but it's not at all pleasant. It left me weak and vulnerable and if it hadn't been for Belle, I would probably still be imprisoned in the king's dungeon." He chewed thoughtfully on a bit of sausage before continuing, happy to be sharing the tale with his son and thankful Baelfire was willing to have a conversation with them which didn't involve a lot of yelling. "He slipped a nasty concoction into our tea … some fairy dust and other ingredients when combined in the right way left me highly ill. I'm just relieved Belle's reaction to it wasn't as severe as mine."

          "So, you rescued him, Belle?" Baelfire asked, finding another reason to admire his new stepmother.

          "Indeed, I did. With a little help from my friends, I was able to free him. And my father had effectively broken the contract, so I was no longer bound to honor it. I brought your father home and we were married shortly thereafter," she explained, collecting their used dishes and returning them to the cart.

          "Papa mentioned last night that you'd taken on a part of the curse?"

          Belle sneaked a glance at her husband and grimaced. "Yes, that's a bit of a sore subject for Rumpel, but I don't regret it. The prophecy the enchantress envisioned - it required a binding of sorts. Rumpel didn't know it involved taking on a part of his curse, was quite put out about it actually, but we've moved past that now."

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted. " _You_  may have."

          "Not doing this now," she retorted, her smile over-bright.

          "So, this is bad, I take it?" Baelfire asked, trying to understand.

          "She has her own dagger. What does that tell you?"

          "Seriously?" the boy gaped. "Can I see it when we get home?"

          "Of course …"

          "NO …"

          Belle chuckled and twined her fingers with Rumpelstiltskin's. "I don't see why you wouldn't show our son. We will not have conflict in our home, Rumpel, nor will we let your fears intrude upon this matter," she insisted stubbornly.

          The mage grimaced. "I know and you're right." He brushed a kiss to her knuckles, a silent promise to try to be better. This was his son, not some random stranger. It was just something he'd have to work on.

          Baelfire bounded to his feet, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "So, when are we leaving?" If he were going to do this, trust his father, give him a second chance … there was no time like the present.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: There is a companion piece to this fic called ... "Things that Go Bump in the Night". Check it out if you're interested. I’m so glad y’all seem to be enjoying the story. Your support means the world to me. Three more chapters to go!


	30. Chapter 30

 

          "Don't look at me like that, Rumpel," Belle said in a small voice. She really hated it when he was displeased, but all the more when his displeasure was directed at her. Thankfully, it wasn't often.

          The imp paced back and forth in the clearing, casting a baleful glare at his wife. Baelfire was sitting on a log not far from them, trying to wrest an ornery rock from his shoe - ignoring them both - happy to go along with whatever plans his parents had to return home and unmindful of the tension between the adults. He sighed, pleased his son was just happy to have been reunited with him. They still had some major issues to work through upon their return to the Enchanted Forest, but for the first time in centuries, he had hope stirring in his chest that they'd be able to find a way to do so.  _IF_  they were able to return. So far, their three attempts to open the portal had been a complete failure.

          "Rumpel, I —"

          He whirled on her, snapping, "Not now, Belle! I need to think! We are obviously missing something, and I cannot concentrate if you're prattling away in my ear."

          Belle wrapped her arms protectively around her torso, lifting one hand to surreptitiously brush at the tears which threatened to spill from her lashes. She felt as if it was her fault. She'd promised him they'd be able to return, had been so confident, yet her magic refused to respond to her wishes. If only she could figure out what she was doing wrong. In this land with no magic, nothing felt right, almost as if it were there, just out of her reach and she had no idea how to access it.

          Baelfire glared at his father, noticing the tears Belle was trying so hard to hide. "Papa, you're being an ass," he snapped, fishing a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into his stepmother's hand. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, smiling tentatively. "It's ok, Belle."

          "Baelfire!" Rumpelstiltskin barked, staring at his son in disbelief.

          Baelfire shrugged. "Well, it's true."

          Belle cast him a watery smile. "You shouldn't speak to your father like that, Bae. It's disrespectful," she scolded and then leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially. "Even though you're right."

          The sorcerer deflated, the anger and frustration he was feeling draining out of him. "Bae, give us a moment," he instructed, waiting until the boy had moved to resume his seat on the log before taking his wife into his arms, embracing her tightly. "I'm sorry, sweeting," he murmured, nuzzling gently against her ear and letting her sweet fragrance envelop and calm him. "I did not mean to take my frustrations out on you." He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the tension drain out of her.

          Slowly she unwound her arms and slipped them around his waist, returning his embrace, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment there. "It's my fault."

          "No, Belle, no. There's something we're overlooking; that's all. But I shouldn't have spoken to you like that," he apologized, his tone contrite. It was all well and good to be the Dark One with everyone else, but he couldn't defend his actions when he spoke to her like that. There was no excuse he could come up with to treat his true love with such disregard for her feelings … not after everything they'd been through and especially after she'd proven her love for him time and time again. "Forgive me," he pleaded, cradling her face in his hands so she was forced to meet his gaze.

          She nodded, gracing him with a weak smile. "Why is our magic failing us, Rumpel? It should have worked."

          He relaxed against her, clearing his mind, her soothing warmth against his body helping him to focus. "Talk to me, Belle. Tell me what's wrong?"

          "It's like it's not there. When I try to draw on it, it seems to be just out of my reach," she sniffed, disgusted with her inability to fulfill her promise.

          "Now we're getting somewhere," he murmured, having gained some insight into what was blocking her. "When you draw on your magic, you pull it from within, yes?" he asked, pleased when she nodded in agreement. "And from where do you draw if you need extra power for the spell you're trying to cast?"

          Her voice was taking on a dreamy quality, mesmerized by the hypnotic tone of his own. His fingers stroked through her unbound hair, his nails scratching gently against her nape with each pass of his hand and he could feel the mental block steadily release its grip on her. "The elements … earth, air …" she whispered, focusing on his voice and the touch of his comforting hand.

          "We're in a land without magic, dear one. We cannot access the magic of the elements here." He closed his eyes and manipulated their bond until both ends were wide open, their magics shared as they flowed between them. "You must draw on me, Belle. Take what you need from me. It's there; do you feel it?"

          Rumpelstiltskin lifted his hand to hers and she placed her palm against his, a golden light coming to light behind her eyes. "I do," she breathed, her heart fluttering with excitement as his magic merged with hers and the wind picked up around them.

          He brushed his lips to hers in a soft kiss of praise for something he knew couldn't have been easy for her. His stubborn little wife had completely given herself over to him, allowed him to lead her into the dance and letting his magic dominate hers into submission. She was a master at manipulating his magic to bend to her will and he knew it had taken a great amount of trust to give herself over to him so thoroughly.

          "Bae, come here … quickly, son," he called out, keeping his voice even so as not to break the firm hold he had over his beloved.

          Baelfire slung the rucksack with their belongings over his shoulder and hurried to his father's side as the wind picked up, whipping his curls about his head. "Papa?" he asked nervously.

          "It's alright, son, we're going home," he assured the boy with all confidence as their magics surged between them. He released his hold on Belle's waist and urged Baelfire to step between them, his back to his father's chest and Belle's to Bae's, never relinquishing his hold on her right hand. He squeezed the three of them tightly together, and crossed his wife's arms tightly over her chest before linking his hand with her left. "Concentrate, my Belle," he commanded as the wind achieved gale force and the ground shook beneath their feet. "Take us home."

          Baelfire locked his hands together over his stepmother's waist and buried his face against her neck, holding tightly as he was sandwiched between his parents. As much as he hated his father's curse, he was thankful for the firm strength of him pressing into his back. He couldn't, however, bite back a scream of terror as the ground fell away beneath his feet to be lost in a swirling vortex of mist and fog.

 

*.*.*

 

          Marcus groaned under the weight of the enormous spruce as he dragged it through the foyer and down the short hall to the Great Hall. It was a fine tree to go along with the decorations Sarah had painstakingly placed there in hopes Belle and Rumpelstiltskin would return in time for the winter solstice. He had to admit, it would have been nice to have the sorcerer there to help with the tree, his magic would have been more than welcome. Sarah stood there at the long dining table, her arms buried to the elbow in one of the numerous boxes she'd been going through. He paused, taking in the determined set of her shoulders, her lips drawn into a thin line as she fought against the tears which sparkled at the corners of her hazel eyes.

          "I see you've been busy in my absence," he said with a gentle smile as he rested the tree against the wall next to the windows and moved to the hearth to warm himself. "Where did you find those, love?"

          Sarah shrugged, pulling another crystal bird from the nesting. Spread out across the table's polished surface were a multitude of crystal ornaments, some clear, some a beautiful shade of sapphire blue. There were birds, unicorns, bears and some that looked to be angels, and Sarah took special care with each of them, mildly wondering if Rumpelstiltskin had taken the collection from some poor unfortunate soul in one of his many deals. Surely, he couldn't have collected them himself over the centuries. It just didn't fit in with her image of the deal maker.

          "Found them in one of the storage rooms on the third floor," she remarked in an offhand manner as she turned to glance at the tree he'd cut and dragged home, drawing a shaky breath. "I want … want everything …"

          He was at her side in an instant, his burly arms wrapping protectively around her. "They're fine, Sarah."

          She buried her face against his chest and sniffled. "They've been gone a week, Marcus. What if they don't come back? They didn't even tell us they were leaving or where they were going! What if they  _can't_ come back?"

          He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and cupped her cheek. "Sweetheart, you know … you've said so yourself … they have a mission to find the Dark One's son. Perhaps they had to leave in a hurry and just couldn't tell us of their departure." He kissed her gently and smiled. "If there's a way for them to come home, Rumpelstiltskin will find it."

          "The solstice is in three days, Marcus. We haven't spent one apart since she was eight when the king took her to Longborne to spend the holiday with King George and his family," she pouted. "I just miss her."

          "He  _will_  bring her home," her husband soothed.

          She pulled her cardigan more securely over her chest and rubbed her arms briskly as she stepped away from him, chilled from the draft which seemed to be emanating from the foyer. "Love, did you leave the door open?"

          Marcus started towards the double doors of the great hall, a frown marring his brow. He stopped short as a bright flash of violet light illuminated the stone walls. He tossed a glance at Sarah over his shoulder, seeing she was close on his heels as they rounded the doorway. "Oh, gods!" he cried, rushing forward to the three prone bodies sprawled over the floor near the entrance door.

          Sarah rushed forward to her friend's side, falling to her knees, her hands fluttering anxiously. "Belle!" she wept, worried tears coursing down her face. "Marcus, see to them," she ordered, her gaze falling on Rumpelstiltskin and a boy who could only be his son judging from the familiar features they shared.

          Wide amber eyes met his as Marcus leaned over his liege lord. "Milord, are you injured?" he asked, offering him a hand as he sat up.

          Rumpelstiltskin waved off his servant and hovered over a groaning Baelfire. "Son, are you alright?"

          Baelfire opened his eyes and rubbed at a knot forming on the back of his head. "I think so, Papa. Just hit my head is all. Where's Belle? I couldn't hold on and she slipped away from me," he said, releasing a large huff of relief as he saw her lying beside him. His eyes narrowed on his father. "You're green again, by the way."

          "Cursed remember?"

          "Yeah," the boy moaned.

          "Belle, love, open your eyes," her husband commanded, his hands sparkling with a crimson glow as they fluttered over her, searching for injuries. He was relieved when he found none, but greatly concerned when she didn't heed his command. "Belle …"

          "What's wrong with her?" Sarah asked, cradling Belle's head in her lap. "Was she hurt?"

          "I think she expended a bit too much magic," the Dark One said, lifting his wife into his arms and setting off towards the marble staircase.

          Baelfire fell into step behind his father, following him up the stairs, his eyes wide as he tried to take in everything at once. "Papa, where are we? I thought we were going home," he gaped, his voice filled with wonder and just a hint of nervousness at the thought of being in someone else's home, much less what was clearly a castle.

          "We are home, Bae," Rumpelstiltskin smile briefly, his stride leaving no room for idle chit chat. He could feel the fatigue settling into his bones as he kicked the double doors of his bedchamber open and bore his wife to their bed, laying her down with the greatest of care.

          "You live in a castle?!" the boy asked incredulously, his head whipping from side to side as he took in the luxury of the room he'd been led to.

          "Bae, please go into the bathing chamber and wet a cloth for Belle," he ordered patiently, sitting on the bed beside his wife.

          "Where's the water … nevermind!" he called, the castle anticipating his whims. Water poured from the tap and he was able to return to his father in moments. "Don't you have some of those salts the ladies are always waving about when they swoon or something?" the boy asked as he rounded the bed to sit on the opposite side.

          "The last time she needed smelling salts, she'd fainted because her corset was laced too tight and poor Marcus ended up with a black eye or so she said," he chuckled, brushing his fingertips along the smooth curve of her jaw, a faint smile curving his lips as he recalled one of her more entertaining letters. "Please, my Belle, please waken up," he murmured, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her brow.

          Gently, he bathed her face with the cloth, hoping it would bring her comfort. He was rewarded by a faint moan and the fluttering of his wife's lashes as she blinked them open to look up into his face. "R-Rumpel?" she asked, groggily.

          "Aye, dearest," he said, pressing his lips to hers. "You did so well."

          Sarah came in and set a tea tray on the bedside table, smiling down at her friend. "I'm so glad you're back. I've been so worried," she said, squeezing the hand Belle held out to her.

          "'M fine, Sarah, just tired. Besides, we were only gone overnight," she said, hiding a yawn behind her hand and sitting up as she accepted the cup Rumpelstiltskin held out to her.

          "No, love, you were gone a week," Sarah fussed, taking the sorcerer's place at her side as he rose from the bed. "You left, and I didn't know where you'd disappeared off to."

          "A week!" Belle sputtered.

          Baelfire patted her on the back and grinned, accepting a cup from Sarah and sipping tentatively at the steaming brew.

          "We overshot our mark apparently," the Dark One said, grinning at her over the rim of his cup. "Understandable if you factor in the fact we were in a land where our magic shouldn't have even been capable of opening a portal."

          "You were amazing, Belle," Baelfire beamed proudly.

          "I couldn't have done it without your papa," she murmured, sharing a fond look with her husband. "Sarah, I'd like you to meet Baelfire, Rumpel's son. Bae, this is Sarah, my friend."

          Sarah gave the boy an appraising look, returning his shy smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young master Baelfire," she said with a sly wink.

          "Just Bae," he insisted, blushing furiously at the added title she'd tacked onto his name.

          "Any hope of dinner?" the Dark One asked, his stomach rumbling loudly. He could well imagine his wife and son were equally famished.

          Sarah nodded. "I didn't know when you'd return, so I kept it light and made a navy bean soup and some fresh bread. I can serve whenever you wish."

          Belle caught her husband's eye and grinned. "Rum, why don't you show Bae his room and then we can go down together?" she suggested. He needed time alone with his son without her acting as a buffer between them and this would give him no excuse to put it off.

          "My own room? This room is bigger than our entire cottage. I don't have to share it with you and Belle?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

          "Of course not, son. I … ah … I have a room prepared for you," he muttered, color riding high in his cheeks beneath the green gold hue of his skin.

          "What your father is trying to say, lad, is that he and your stepmother like their privacy," she intoned in a loud whisper, waggling her brows suggestively.

          "Sarah!"

          "What?" she asked innocently, only to spoil it with a wicked grin.

          "Yeah, I kinda found that out on my own," the boy winced, blushing bright red.

          Rumpelstiltskin ushered his son to the door, glaring at his caretaker's wife and promising retribution. "Come along, son. I'm sure you'll want to see where you'll be sleeping."

          Sarah smoothed the blankets over Belle's lap, her face softening as she gazed at her friend. "Decided to scar the boy first thing, eh?"

          "It was a nightmare! You should have seen poor Bae standing in the doorway in stunned horror. I can honestly say I am thrilled never to have walked in on my father," Belle intoned, relaxing back into her pillows. "He seems like a good boy though. Reuniting with his son is Rum's happy ending."

          "No, Belle, having his son back and you as his wife is his happy ending."

 

*.*.*

 

          "So, Papa, how many people have you turned into snails while I've been away?" Baelfire asked as he walked beside his father down the corridor, fiddling with the ties on his tunic.

          Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and prayed for patience, his shoulders still and filled with tension. He felt as though he'd forgotten how to converse with his own son and the bitterness which seemed to emanate from the boy left him ready to crawl out of his own skin.

          "Not quite as many as you might think, especially lately," he snarked. "Besides, I like to use a variety of insects. Otherwise we'd have an abundance of garden pests flitting and slithering about the realm."

          Baelfire stopped in the middle of the corridor, gaping at his father in horror. "But —"

          "Just a quip, Bae," he laughed, ruffling his son's hair. "It's been quite a while since I transformed anyone … at least not since Belle came into my life. She doesn't approve of such harsh punishments for those who try to cheat me." He inhaled deeply and held his breath, relieved when some of the tension left the boy's shoulders.

          "You really have been trying to change, though?"

          "I have. After I lost you, I didn't care what I had to do to get you back, what kind of deal I had to make. I just knew I had to find you to tell you how sorry I was for letting you go, Bae. But it made me into the monster everyone claimed me to be," he said, opening a door a short ways down the corridor from the master suite.

          Baelfire made no move to enter, tilting his head to the side as he studied his father's grave countenance. "You're not a monster, Papa; it's this curse."

          Rumpelstiltskin smiled - or tried to - the gesture looking to be one of pain rather than joy. "That may be so, but I let the demon have free reign over me, son, while I curled up in a corner of my mind and wallowed in my grief. What did I care when the demon was working towards achieving my goals?"

          "What changed you?"

          "The enchantress told me of Belle, that I would save her, and she would save me someday in return. Of course, I didn't believe her, but then she said something which stuck with me for a very long time. She asked me what good it would do to reunite with my son if he would despise the man I had become. My Belle …" he said, his lips turning up in a genuine smile at the very thought of her. "She made me want to be better … for her, for you and for me."

          Baelfire shook his head ruefully. "And the deals? You still make them?"

          The Dark One snorted. "It's part of who I am, Bae, but I've found I'm not quite as harsh as I once was."

          The boy turned, satisfied with his father's answer and preceded him into the room, the scent of lemon and pine permeating the air. "I still find it hard to believe you're married. I —" his voice trailed off as he stared in awe at the opulent room.

          The walls were covered in dark cherry wood paneling, the floors polished wood and covered in a thick Agrabahan carpet woven in earth tones. Sheer forest green hangings hung from the canopy of the four-poster bed, the coverlet and throw pillows in the same green and gold to match as well as the thick draperies covering the windows. A wardrobe, dresser and writing desk of rich mahogany were all polished to a shine which gleamed in the feeble sunlight shining in through the open drapes. Their former home could have easily fit into the space his father was giving him to use as his own.

          Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat nervously, praying his boy would like the room he'd chosen and painstakingly furnished for him, having chosen each piece with the greatest care in hopes he'd like it when he could finally come home. "Do you … ah … do you like it?"

          With a loud  _whoop_  the boy hurled himself onto the bed, flopping about like a fish out of water as he tested the softness of the bed and the luxuriously fluffy pillows. "Papa, this is incredible! He sat up and bounded off the bed, going to the writing desk and exclaiming over the fine drawing paper, the colored pencils and charcoals and the secretary holding quill and ink and the finest stationary. The wardrobe was next, opening it to find an array of breeches and tunics in all colors of the rainbow, made from silks, leathers, suedes; hose, knit socks, boots, shoes, belts and anything he might need to turn him out in grand style as the son of the Dark One.

          Finally, he came to the hope chest at the foot of the bed, kneeling before it and throwing open the heavy lid. Rumpelstiltskin moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reveling in the pure delight on his son's face. "I wanted you to have everything you left behind. I really didn't know what to keep or what to leave, so I brought it all," he said, watching as Baelfire rifled through the chest. His sheepskin blankets, his ball, some wooden toys Rumpelstiltskin had carved for him before he could walk, drawings he'd made, books he’d favored; it was all there.

          Baelfire raised his wide sable eyes, glistening with tears, to meet his father's gaze, so filled with uncertainty. "You kept it all," he said, his small voice trembling with emotion.

          "It was all I had left of you," the sorcerer whispered humbly. "I couldn't leave it behind." He barely had a moment to brace himself for the impact of his boy throwing himself into his arms and embracing him tightly, as if another portal would open up in the floor to drag him away.

          "When I was falling through the portal without you, all I could think was that your power was more important, that you'd be glad to be rid of me," Baelfire sobbed out onto Rumpelstiltskin's shoulder.

          "No, Bae," the mage reassured him, petting his son's dark curls as he held him close. "I will never love anything as I do you, son. Never!" he vowed. "I love you so much. I promise I'll try not to be the monster you feared, the demon that drove you away."

          "I love you, too, Papa," Baelfire sniffled, clinging tightly. "I'll help you … I'll stay and help you remember who you were before the curse."

          "That's all I can ask, Bae," he smiled, setting the boy back on his feet and drying his own eyes. "We'll do it together."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Yay, they’re home! I love writing scenes with Bae and Rumpel bonding. Of course, it’s not all smooth sailing, but they’re making progress. I really hope you enjoyed it!!


	31. Chapter 31

 

          "Bae, wait! If you would just allow me to explain, son. Baelfire!" Rumpelstiltskin yelled as the great entry doors slammed behind him.

          The boy sprinted for the stairs, refusing to stop and continue the argument with his father. "You haven't changed, Papa! You still hurt people," he cried, taking the marble stairs two at a time to the upper floors where he could seek the solace of his room.

          Belle rose from the settee next to his spinning wheel in the Great Hall, setting her book aside, her brow furrowing at the raised voices of her husband and stepson. One look at his face made her wince as he approached, stepped around her and flopped onto the settee. His eyes were dark and stormy as he cast an accusing glare at her. She took a seat beside him and poured him a cup of tea from the fresh pot Sarah had brought in just moments before his arrival.

          Her face was set into a calm mask of patience as she handed him the cup. "What has upset Bae? Did the deal go awry?"

          Rumpelstiltskin rubbed a hand over his brow as he sipped tentatively at the brew, trying to push back the darkness looming at the edges of his consciousness. He would  _not_  take out his foul temper on his wife … even if it was her fault. "Although your intentions were noble …"

          "Uh-oh," she mumbled under her breath.

          "… I somehow think it was a mistake to bring my son along," he snarked, his thin lips twisting into a wry smirk.

          "I only wanted you to spend time with him, Rum. Since we got back, he's spent most of his time with me preparing for the solstice celebration. You've been equally busy answering one call after another. How can he see how much you've changed if he has no time with you?" she asked, curling into his side and kissing his weathered cheek. "Tell me what happened."

          "It's my fault, Belle. I should have looked into the matter before I answered the summons," he sighed wearily, leaning his head back as he slipped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her closer, seeking her warmth and comfort.

          "You've been distracted and you're not sleeping at all well. Even the Dark One is allowed to make mistakes once in a while," she sympathized, unhappy he was somehow blaming himself.

          "It should have been a small matter."

          "Since when is anything a small matter when you're called?" she asked dryly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "What did this person ask for?"

          "He was a poor dirt farmer with three lovely daughters. Belle, they looked as if they'd not eaten for a fortnight where their father was more on the portly side and reeking of drink. I don't know where their mother was. It's possible she ran off or died or any manner of things, but she wasn't there to help the girls. The oldest was about Bae's age I'd say and from the look of things, she was charged with caring for her sisters," he explained, the tight set of his jaw warning her the story would only escalate from bad to worse. "He asked for gold."

          "Well, that's not a surprise if they were as poor as you said. Why is Bae so upset?" she asked, twining her fingers with his and rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles.

          "I'm getting to that, sweetheart. They had nothing of value to trade, but I couldn't really stand to see the girls suffering. Children do not deserve to pay for the sins of their parent. I've learned that lesson the hard way. I was going to ask Bae what he thought would be a fair price considering how poor they were, Belle, let him take part in my business …" he said, his voice trailing off as he tried to rein in his fury.

          Belle tilted her head to the side and bit her lip in consternation. "That doesn't sound so bad."

          "I lost my temper. Before I could even ask Baelfire his opinion, the farmer offered me one of his daughters," he spat, bounding to his feet and raking a hand through his wild hair, unable to sit still a moment longer. "The middle daughter … she couldn't have been more than twelve, Belle!"

          "Oh, gods!" she gasped, her rosy complexion losing its color. "What did you do, Rumpel?"

          "I turned the bastard into a gecko and transported the girls to the middle of Snow White's throne room. I don't think she was too happy with the disturbance I caused, but I was too angry to think about her delicate sensibilities. The princeling was more vocal in his upset, and no don't ask because what he said is not for your lovely ears."

          Belle arched a dubious brow, sure she'd heard worse profanities from her husband than anything the prince could have come up with. "Why did you take them to Snow?"

          He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and closed his eyes, trying to banish the smell of fear which had rolled off the children. "They needed care, my Belle. I simply told the princess her subjects were being neglected and it was her responsibility to see the matter corrected," he stated softly. "I thought perhaps she could give them refuge in the palace and train them to be handmaidens or work in the kitchens. Anything would be preferable to how they were living. Baelfire took exception to how I dealt with their father."

          "Did you squish him?" she asked, biting her lip to stifle a chuckle. The man deserved much worse, in her opinion, if he was going to trade his child to the Dark One for a sack of gold. Children were precious, a gift without price.

          "No, there was no squishing involved," he assured her, walking over to his wheel and giving it an idle turn. "He won't even talk to me now. Says I broke up their family."

          Belle rose from her seat and molded herself to his back, slipping her arms about his waist and resting her face between his shoulder blades, trying to infuse him with her love, letting him draw comfort from her through their bond. "I'll talk to him."

          "You shouldn't have to. It's my place," he protested.

          "He needs another perspective, darling. Let me talk to him, alright?"

          He nodded, disentangling himself from her embrace to turn and press a kiss to her brow. "As you wish."

          With a wink, she disappeared in a wisp of aqua colored smoke, leaving him alone in the hall, reappearing outside of Baelfire's bedroom to knock softly on the sturdy oak door. "I don't want to talk right now, Papa!" came a muffled cry from the other side.

          "Bae, it's Belle," she called to him, her hand upon the doorknob. "May I come in?"

          A belligerent "Fine!" met her ears and she cautiously poked her head into the room to find him sprawled across his bed on his stomach, his head buried beneath a pillow. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

          "Would you like to talk about it? Your papa already told me what happened," she began in a soft tone, hoping to somehow make him feel better if she could.

          He flipped over onto his back and she could see the angry tears sparkling from the ends of his lashes. "Did he tell you he turned that man into a lizard? That he took his daughters and uprooted them from their home?"

          "Baelfire —"

          He cut her off before she could say more. "Don't even think of defending him, Belle! It was wrong," he insisted. "It's happening all over again and he's just as he was before I got the bean from Rhuel Ghorm."

          Belle shook her head, fighting off the ill feelings she carried about with her when anyone spoke badly of her husband. "Sweetheart, he's nothing like he was before. Did you not stop to consider if the girls would be better off without their father?"

          "How could you think that, Belle? When my hand slipped free of his and he let me fall into the portal, all I could think about was how I'd never see him again, that I'd lost him forever. I …" he cried brokenly, a sob erupting from his throat.

          She wrapped her arms around him, tucking his dark curls beneath her chin. "It brought back bad memories, Bae, which is unfortunate. But you need to realize your papa made a mistake with you that he is not likely to repeat. He loves you so much, he dedicated three centuries to finding you so he could tell you. Nothing is more precious than you, darling."

          He snuffled softly, drying his tears on his sleeve.

          "From what your papa tells me, this man neglected his daughters in favor of his own needs and was still going to grant the man's request until he offered to trade one of his children. He lost his temper, yes, but, Bae, he didn't kill him as I'm certain before he wouldn't have hesitated. And he provided much better circumstances for the girls by bringing them to Snow," she said gently, hoping he could see his father's actions in a new light. "What if the man had taken the gold and abandoned his daughters? If he was willing to sell one of them, how can you be sure he wouldn't have tried again?"

          "So, papa did it for their own good," he agreed, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

          She thought of something she was certain hadn't crossed his mind. "What if you had a sister, Bae? Would you be so willing to let her go? I'm sure this girl's sisters wouldn't have been any happier than you would to be parted from their sibling."

          "My papa would never do something like that. He would love … her just as … much as me," he hiccoughed, jumping to Rumpelstiltskin's defense before he could even think about what he was saying.

          Belle nodded, continuing to rub soothing circles along his back. "Because he's a good man. He would never give up his child for monetary compensation."

          "No, he wouldn't."

          "Rumpel doesn't do things without a good reason, no matter how angry he is. His curse does not control him, Baelfire;  _he_  controls his curse. It could have been so much worse for that farmer and you know it. You know what your father is capable of. And now the girls have a chance to prosper and grow in a stable environment. Snow White and her prince are good people and will not let any harm come to them."

          Baelfire sat back and offered her a weak smile. "How is it you know him so well if you have only been married a short time?" he asked, taking a deep calming breath.

          "Remind me to show you the letters he wrote to me when I first learned of his deal with my father. As you read, you will see how he began to change. I didn't like him at all in the beginning, I must admit," she replied, giggling softly. "I think you will find them enlightening."

          "May I read them now?" he asked, his eyes brightening as a smile bloomed on his lips.

          Belle rose from the bed, urging him to rise with her. "No, I'm afraid it will have to wait. Right now, I think you need to come downstairs and have a talk with your papa. Then we still have to finish the baskets for the villagers to commemorate the solstice, so I will need your assistance in the kitchens."

          Baelfire groaned as he thought of the baskets already lined up on the dining table in the Great Hall waiting to be filled. "Yes,  _Mama."_

          Belle couldn't stop the teary smile which curved her lips as she watched him drag his feet out the door to do her bidding.  _Maybe there's hope yet for this family._

 

*.*.*

 

**Solstice Eve …**

 

          "Rumpelstiltskin!"

          The Dark One paused in the act of adding a healthy measure of goblin-made fire whiskey to the large punchbowl full of chilled egg nog, turning wide innocent amber eyes on his darling wife as she came into the Great Hall with another platter of delicacies to place on the dining table. It was already bedecked with all manner of foods she, Sarah and Baelfire had prepared for the solstice feast.

          "What?"

          She set her burden on the table and snatched the earthenware jug from his hands, fighting the grin that wished to bloom on her lips. "Tell me you are not spiking the egg nog. Baelfire has been looking forward to it and I would like him to be able to partake of it without losing his senses," she scolded.

          His hands fluttered before him guiltily before he held one up, his forefinger and thumb a mere inch apart. "Just a wee nip?"

          "No. We all know what your idea of a wee nip is, darling," she deadpanned, banishing the jug back to his study and the locked cabinet where it usually resided.

          "Not to worry, dearest; I promise I didn't add too much. Bae will be fine," he replied as he stirred the beverage with the long ladle, one of his trademark giggles echoing off the high vaulted ceiling. He was touched by the concern she showed for his son —their son, he amended. He'd been surprised at how well his Belle had taken to motherhood considering she'd had no former experience with children and was barely older than Baelfire herself. He'd thought perhaps she would be able to form a friendship with Baelfire, and in that he'd been right, but it somehow went deeper than that. Bae's lack of a mother figure in his life after Milah had abandoned them must have had a greater impact on his life than he'd formerly been led to believe.

          Bae looked up to Belle, asked her advice, and confided in her when he felt he couldn't talk to his father. It took great effort for him not to feel a bit envious when Bae would go to his stepmother before his own father, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel thankful to have the woman he loved so passionately take such an interest in his child. She was as positive an influence in Bae's life as she was in Rumpelstiltskin's, her light ebbing and flowing through their hearts and lives. He couldn't help but think if Milah had been more like Belle, things would have turned out quite differently. But just as soon as he gave birth to the thought, he banished it because then he wouldn't have his Belle and she was his greatest treasure … his family was his greatest gift, and without them he would surely become dust.

          "Hey," Belle said softly, a note of worry in her voice as she took in his silence. "Why so melancholy? No bad thoughts today."

          He pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips to hers, the corners of his mouth forming into a genuine smile of pleasure. "No bad thoughts," he agreed. "I was just thinking about how much has changed this past week. You've been so good for Baelfire. I just … I love you so much, my darling Belle, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for your love." His voice caught a little at the end, choked with emotion as it was, and Belle couldn't help but press closer and drop a kiss to his chest over his heart.

          "There is no need to thank me, Rumpel. You are my happiness … you and Bae." She emitted a small squeak as his arms tightened almost unbearably about her petite form. "Go, love, get changed for dinner before our guest arrives."

          He cocked a brow at her, clearly taken aback by that announcement. "What guest?"

          "Oh, ah …"

          "Belle, please tell me you didn't invite your father to dinner," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

          She stroked her hand soothingly over his soft hair and gave her head a little shake. "No, Rum, I did not. It's not like he'd want to spend the holiday with us anyway," she said, the sadness evident in her voice. "I made it perfectly clear I wouldn't be inviting him here until he could be civil to you and I don't want him to take out his surly attitude on our son and ruin this day for him."

          "He'll eventually see he needs you in his life and put forth the effort to reconcile," he said with a confidence he was in no way feeling at the moment. "So, who is our guest?"

          "Damn! I forgot about the tart I have in the oven. Hurry and dress while I run to save it," she said hurriedly. Aqua smoke enveloped her as he opened his mouth in protest and she was still giggling softly to herself when she reappeared in the kitchen.

 

*.*.*

 

          "…and I met some new people in the market place, Papa, while Marcus and Sarah were delivering the baskets to the villagers. Can I go back soon? They seem to be really nice and they weren't completely freaked out when I told them you were my father and …" Baelfire rambled on about his visit to the village that day, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

          "Really, Bae?" Belle asked, passing him a cup of the egg nog he loved so much. Thankfully, her husband had been correct when he'd promised the amount of alcohol he'd added had been minute. It certainly wouldn't hurt the boy to have a cup or two. "They aren't intimidated by your papa?"

          "No. They said they've seen papa in the village before at the market and they don't know why their parents make such a fuss about him or why they're scared. Chip even said papa had saved him a year or so ago," he said after taking a generous sip of his treat, turning to Rumpelstiltskin with wide sable eyes alight with curiosity. "Is that true?"

          Rumpelstiltskin stared transfixed at the twinkling fairy lights on the large fir tree Belle and Baelfire had painstakingly decorated as he rifled through his memories. The entire hall looked festive, filled with greenery and enchanted lights he'd placed throughout with a bit of magic. "Is that the little one who lives with his grandmother?"

          Baelfire nodded.

          "Yes, I believe I did," he murmured distractedly as Belle sat back on the sofa and nestled into his side, drawing her bare feet up beneath the full skirts of her sapphire gown. "And I suppose you may visit again if you wish. I'm sure one of us could accompany you … or not," he added at his son's groan and the pained expression on his face. He was still having trouble letting the boy out of his sight without sending another to look after him. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and sighed contentedly. It was quiet in the hall, just the three of them as Sarah and Marcus had retired earlier in the afternoon to have their own celebration, and now only the murmur of their conversation and the crackling of the fire breaking the peaceful silence.

          The large gold knocker on the front entry doors broke through the contentment he'd been enjoying. "I take it that is our guest?" he grouched to Belle as he disentangled himself from her warm embrace and rose to answer the door.

          "And be nice," his wife called after him. He could hear Baelfire asking Belle for the umpteenth time when they were going to sit down to dinner and her whispered response of 'soon' as he reached the door, a whisper of magic throwing the doors wide to admit their guest.

          His face fell as he was greeted with a warm hug and a kiss to his cheek. "Hello, dearie! Don't tell me you dressed up all for me," she teased, her cheeks dimpling and her violet eyes sparkling with pleasure as she took in his crimson brocade coat and deep forest green waistcoat over an ivory silk shirt.

          "I assure you, Winter, if I had known you were coming, I would have absented myself from the castle," he snarked, closing the door behind her as she stepped over the threshold.

          Her laugh was warm and infectious as she tilted her head to the side, her long blond curls falling in waves over the back of her violet cloak. "Now there's the Dark One we all know and love." She linked her arm through his, whether he was willing or not, and allowed him to lead her forward for the short walk to the Great Hall. "You look happy, darling."

          "How can you tell?" he asked, surprised as he thought he'd acted his usual unpleasant self.

          "I know you better than anyone, therefore I can. I'm so pleased. Now where is that darling wife of yours? When she sent me the invitation to join you tonight, it was rather cryptic," the enchantress replied with good cheer.

          Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, just as puzzled as she was. Belle really needed to keep him informed of her plans, he thought, shaking his head. Baelfire's wide sable eyes met his father's as Winter rushed forward to embrace Belle, exclaiming over how well she was looking. He rose from his spot on the floor next to the coffee table where he'd been drawing, unsure what to think of the two women.

          "Who is she, Papa?" he whispered to his father.

          "That, my boy, is Winter," the sorcerer remarked acidly. "One of the biggest pains in my —"

          "Rumpel," Belle admonished, resuming her seat on the sofa and pulling Winter down to sit with her.

          "What's she doing here if you don't like her?" Baelfire asked, his curious gaze watching her closely.

          Rumpelstiltskin sidled closer to his wife and perched a hip on the arm of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest as he arched a brow at her. "Yes, dearest," he cooed in a deceptively sweet voice. "Do tell."

          Belle beamed brightly up at him, diffusing his anger in the light of her smile. "Since Winter was so instrumental in bringing us together, I thought it was only fitting that she should meet our son." She hesitated only a moment before saying quickly, "And perhaps bestow a blessing upon him."

          "Belle, I don't know if that would be wise," her husband growled, never having trusted the enchantress. For all her good intentions, they nevertheless had a way of backfiring on him.

          Winter's violet eyes gleamed with fondness for the lady of the Dark Castle, reaffirming her opinion that Belle was the best thing to have ever happened to her former charge. "So, this is your beloved son," she breathed reverently, rising to her feet to stand before the boy. "Baelfire, it is such a joy to meet you."

          "Erm … nice to meet you too … I guess," the boy said uncertainly, his distrust of all magic wielders clearly evident in his tone.

          Rumpelstiltskin watched her anxiously, fighting back the magic which crackled at his fingertips ready to defend and protect if need be, as she circled around his son. "None of your tricks, Winter," he warned, so concentrated on her movements he barely felt the weight of Belle's hand slipping into his to give it a reassuring squeeze.

          "Pfft!" she snorted, casting him a serene glance over her shoulder. "You should know I would never do anything to harm your precious boy, Rumpels." She reached up and cradled Baelfire's face in her cool hands, her eyes going glassy and unfocused as she stared into his, transfixed by the images which flooded her mind. Her voice took on a dreamy quality, soft and comforting. "Ah, my boy, you have dreams of becoming a knight … so brave and strong. Your compassion and purity of heart is breathtaking," she breathed, unable to hide the sweet smile which curved her lips. "I see a wonderful future ahead for you, dearie, full of love and laughter and children … a very long life."

          Baelfire stared at her, awestruck.

          "You will never completely lose the fear you have for your father, that he will return to the darkness, but over time it will become manageable. Try not to worry for him so much, dearie, he has you and Belle to keep him grounded and the two of you infuse him with the love and faith he needs to be a good man. He raised you to be a good man as well, Baelfire. Stay true to his teachings and they will not fail you as you continue to grow and mature." Her hands glowed with a faint white light, her eyes closing as she chanted a spell of blessing over him. And then with a kiss to his brow, she stepped away and smiled at him.

          Rumpelstiltskin breathed a sigh of extreme relief when it was over, his breath whooshing out in a rush. Baelfire shifted uncomfortably, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpet, a rosy flush staining his cheeks. "Can we eat now?"

          The Dark One roared with laughter, the sound so different from his usual impish giggles as this was genuine. "Is that all you think about, lad?

          The table was laid for four, the surface crowded with all manner of foods, from fresh seasonal vegetables, golden brown yeast rolls with creamy butter and jellied cranberries to a large roasted goose and a glazed ham. Rumpelstiltskin sat back, having to remind himself to eat as he listened to Winter regale his son with tales of the Dark One's exploits. Thankfully she kept them mild so as not to scar the boy. Baelfire seemed most interested in how his father had been led to Belle. And then the questions began.

          "Why couldn't you save Belle's mama?"

          "…"

          "Why did the king keep the deal from Belle?"

          "…"

          "Why did he keep trying to break the deal?"

          "Because he's an ass!"

          "Rumpel!" Belle hissed, the reprimand falling flat as it was accompanied by a burst of laughter.

          "Is he my grandpa now?"

          Rumpelstiltskin shuddered at the thought, wondering how his father-in-law was going to take to Baelfire … if he even decided to come for the visit scheduled later in the new year. "Here, Bae, have some pudding," he offered, pushing a tureen at his son. He hoped the questions would cease if his mouth was full.

          Belle staggered a bit as she rose from the table and clung tightly to her husband's hand as she felt the wards ripple. Winter banished the dishes from the table, sending it off to the kitchens and storing the leftovers away in the enchanted food locker, her way of helping. "Rumpel, we have a visitor," she said, offering him a tight smile.

          His brow furrowed with worry as he looked down into her troubled cerulean eyes. "And it's not a pleasant one either. I'll get rid of her."

          "No," Belle sighed wearily, her belly full and her limbs languorous as she sat on the sofa and conjured a tea tray for them to enjoy. "You've been expecting her to pop in for quite some time."

          "I didn't expect her to show up today to interrupt our festivities, however," he snarled, every one of his senses on the alert as he felt the entry doors open under their own volition to his former apprentice.

Winter took a seat in the armchair to Belle's left, taking a cup for herself and looking as composed as ever. "Someone I know, dearies?"

          The double doors leading into the Great Hall opened and Regina glided in, a deceptively pleasant smile curving the corners of her ruby lips. She'd foregone her usual black in favor of a festive emerald sheath dress which molded to her generous curves. "Happy Solstice, Rumpel," she purred, striding into the room. Her eyes narrowed on her former master, flitting only briefly at the other occupants of the room.

          "Your majesty," he acknowledged through his tightly clenched teeth. "I would've thought you'd be spending the holiday with dear old dad."

          "We had a nice dinner, but I had calls to make. Business doesn't wait for holidays and neither does my curiosity when I hear delicious rumors. What better way to get down to the truth of the matter than to investigate in person … and right to the source?" she asked, her dark eyes coming to rest on Belle.

          The Dark One arched a brow at her, his wiry frame emanating a coldness which left a tangible chill in the warm room. Regina ignored it.

          "Your majesty, won't you join us for tea?" Belle asked sweetly, refusing to let the woman intimidate her.

          "And who might this  _sweet_  little girl be? One of your by blows?" the queen asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

          Belle nearly choked on her tea as she felt a wave of pure evil malice wash through their bond, leaving her somewhat dizzy as the darkness encroached upon her. If Regina weren't careful, there was every possibility she'd be facing the demon instead of merely the playful imp. She took a deep breath and sent a rush of calm spiraling through the bond to help soothe his rage. Winter's violet eyes fixed on the queen, her own ire rising as she watched the woman toy with Rumpelstiltskin.

          Regina chuckled softly and joined Belle on the sofa, accepting a cup of tea from the girl. Belle drew her breeding about her like a cloak. It wasn't the first time she'd had to entertain royalty, though none quite so openly unpleasant as the queen of the Forestlands. Rumpelstiltskin perched carefully next to Belle on the arm of the sofa, a hovering dragon ready to breathe fire if Regina moved to attack his beloved. Baelfire sat oblivious on the rug next to the coffee table, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment to continue his drawings.

          "My husband has told me quite a bit about you, Regina. I must admit, you're not quite what I expected," Belle began, breaking the silence.

          Regina cut her eyes at the mage, the dark orbs shimmering with malice. "I can well imagine," she sneered. "So, it's true," her gaze rose to meet the imp's, "you've gained yourself a wife. And who is this strapping young man?"

          "None of your concern," the Dark One snarled. "Now do tell us why you've come. What business brings you here today?"

          "The curse, of course," she laughed ominously, running her finger along the edge of her cup, her blood red nails clinking lightly against the porcelain. "You assured me it would be ready by the solstice."

          Rumpelstiltskin trilled a giggle, his demeanor changing to one of outright glee. "Well, dearie, there's been a change of plan. I won't be needing you to cast the curse after all."

          "What?" she hissed, her voice cold. "This curse is the reason you trained me. It's been your life's work! For five years it's all you've been able to talk about. And now you've what? Had a change of heart because you got married?!"

          "Yes," he said simply, nodding as if he were confused she couldn't grasp the concept.

          Regina rose angrily to her feet, her eyes flashing with a sudden burst of temper. "What about my revenge against Snow White? You promised me, Rumpelstiltskin! How dare you break our deal?"

The sorcerer shrugged, running his long fingers through Belle's long unbound curls as a way to calm the magic coursing through him, the desire to smite the queen on the spot almost overwhelming. "My promise to Belle is more important than any deal I've ever made, dearie."

          It was then Regina could see clearly as she took in the soft look he exchanged with the girl. "Oh, don't tell me. True love?" she asked, her lip curling as if she’d smelled something bad. "That can be easily remedied."

          Regina raised her hand, the alabaster skin glowing with blue fire, but before she could release it, before Rumpelstiltskin or Winter could move to defend, Belle flicked her wrist, golden tendrils of magic shooting forth from her fingers, wrapping themselves about the queen to suppress her magic. The expression of stunned disbelief and outrage on Regina's face was priceless and the Dark One wasn't able to hold back the chuckle which escaped his lips.

          "I suppose your little informant who brought you the news of my marriage neglected to tell you about Belle's little gift, eh?"

          Of course, Regina couldn't answer, bound by magic in a frozen state as she was. The mage however, quickly lost his good humor as Belle rose from the sofa and approached the queen. "Bae, darling, leave us for a bit, won't you?" she asked, her voice eerily flat.

          Baelfire looked to his father, his sable eyes filled with worry. Rumpelstiltskin was quick to reassure him. "Go on, son. I'll come for you shortly and we'll open your gifts, alright?" The boy collected his scattered art supplies and left the hall, casting a nod of understanding at his father. The Dark One laid a hand on Belle's shoulder, but she shrugged him off and slammed her end of the bond closed, focusing her attention on the queen. "Belle, what are doing?"

          She didn't answer, concentrating on what she needed to do. Since she'd bound herself so completely with her husband, she'd never had cause to use the darkness he'd imbued in her. Although frightening, it was necessary. She reached deep within her, drawing the darkness forward as she pushed her inner light aside, giving it room to expand through her, pulsing like a thick viscous cloud of venom. It fought for dominance, whispering in her mind as it tried to take control, but she was stronger and was able to beat it into submission, forming it into what she wished. Her hand was lightning fast as she struck, her fingers digging into the queen's chest and curling around her heart. She withdrew, the pulsing organ resting in her delicate palm.

          "Belle!" her husband gasped, trying to push his way past the barrier she'd erected in their bond. He cursed himself for telling Belle how to use the dark magic she'd gained from him.

          She caressed the queen's heart with the fingertips of her left hand, trailing over the rivulets of blackness which threatened to obscure the healthy red beneath. "There's still hope for her, Rumpel," she said softly, her voice, however, lacking the purity it usually held. She brought it to Winter, showing the enchantress as she pushed the darkness aside and let her light wash through her, restoring the balance within her once more. It made her marvel at her husband's fortitude to have lived with the cloying darkness for so many centuries.

          Winter took the queen's heart from Belle, cradling it delicately in her hands. "She's right, dearie," she murmured, glancing up at the Dark One. "She's not completely lost. Though I have to say, you did a number on her, Rumpels; shame on you."

          "Well if you think you can fix her, I must have failed somewhere," he snarked belligerently. He didn't appreciate the women telling him he'd fucked up, he thought sourly.

          Winter studied the organ in her hands and smiled. "Belle, together you and I can remove the blackness, but it's going to take more than that to see an improvement."

          Rumpelstiltskin moved to stand beside them, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the sight of Regina's heart. It made him wonder just how horribly black his own heart was. "What do you suggest?"

          "Well, we can't very well leave her as she is, now can we?" Belle asked, turning her wide blue eyes on him. "She's done quite enough evil to the subjects of this realm."

          They were all quiet for a moment, running over different scenarios with no clear answer. Finally, Winter spoke up. "I'll take her with me."

          "What?"

          "Are you certain you want to do that?" Belle asked incredulously. "She's dangerous, Winter."

          "Belle, darling, you're forgetting again just who I am. I have dealt with one Dark One after another and Rumpels here was a fluffy little kitten compared to some of them. Regina will be a lovely distraction from the boredom I've been suffering since your marriage. It will be nice to be needed again," the enchantress explained.

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted over the kitten remark, scowling at the platinum blonde sorceress as he circled around them in his agitated pacing. "She'll drive you to insanity within a week."

          "Pfft! If you couldn't accomplish that feat, I'm sure I have nothing to fear from the little queen," she beamed confidently. She took Belle's hand and placed it gently alongside the heart and laid hers atop it. "Concentrate, Belle. I need light and love and purity, darling."

          The Dark One shrank back from the blinding white light, unable to look at it directly. Instead, he focused his gaze on the queen and the tears which formed and spilled over her waxen cheeks. Be it for the best or not, it was somehow wrong to take away her choice. Yet, wouldn't it be better to erase the harm he'd dealt her over the years and give her a fresh start? Where would he be if Belle hadn't decided to gift him with her love? Wallowing in darkness, he assured himself. If they could give Regina a chance at redemption, her free will would be a small price to pay in the long run.

          He caught her as the magic released her and her legs gave out beneath her to collapse on the rug. "Shh, dearie, it's alright."

          "W-What did they do to m-me?" she gasped, adrift in a sea of overwhelming sensation. The sorrow and sadness she'd buried deep within her for so long, remorse for the things she'd done, stabbed at her like a thousand needles against her flesh.

          "We healed your heart, Regina," Belle said gently, kneeling before the queen and holding out the brightly glowing heart for her to see. "Rumpel, please? I don't want to have to summon the darkness again to return it."

          "Are you sure that's wise? You control her as long as you hold it, dearest."

          "I don't want to control her, Rum. I want to give her hope for a better future. Allow her to heal … a second chance," Belle breathed wearily, placing the heart in her husband's hand.

          He nodded, and Regina jerked forward, a howl of pain tumbling from her parted lips as he thrust his hand into her chest to return her heart to its resting place. A lightness enveloped her, free of the evil which had ruled her for so long, something she hadn't felt since Daniel had been taken from her. Her magic felt all wrong and lay within her like a stone, waiting to be transformed into something different than what she was used to. She was terrified.

          Winter stood over them, smiling fondly down at the queen. "Don't worry, dearie, you'll get used to the new feelings surging within you. It will just take time. I can help you if you'll let me."

          "I-I don't know," Regina whispered, tasting the acrid metallic sharpness of her fear … fear of the unknown.

          "Regina, dearie, this is something you need to do. Allow Winter to fix what I broke so long ago," Rumpelstiltskin pleaded with her, helping her rise to her feet.

          Winter held out her hand, finally giving Regina a choice. Hesitantly, Regina reached out her hand, closing her eyes as Winter's fingers closed over her own, warmth and hope spreading through her. With a wink to Belle, the enchantress took her charge and disappeared in a whisper of lavender mist.

          Rumpelstiltskin collapsed back on the sofa, pulling Belle down onto his lap and wrapping his arms about her waist to press her tightly against his chest. "Do you really think this is going to work?" he asked after a moment of quiet reflection.

          Belle hummed in pleasure as she pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss. "It may," she said softly. "Regardless, we've made the effort to help her where no one else would. She will have to  _want_  to change in order for Winter to guide her on her new path. If you could change, my darling, Regina can as well."

          "Where do we go from here?" he asked, nuzzling against the crook of her neck, his lips gently teasing her ivory skin.

          "Presents!" she gushed excitedly. "I can't wait for Bae to see what you have for him!"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One more chapter which will be the epilogue. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing … xoxoxox


	32. Chapter 32

 

**10 years later …**

 

          Rumpelstiltskin sat at his spinning wheel and scowled through the spokes at his father in law. He could have hoped all those years ago the king wouldn't have wanted to reconcile with Belle, but even being the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, he did not always get what he wanted. The fact that Maurice had offered Rumpelstiltskin a sincere apology, without Belle's prodding, had cinched the deal, in her opinion. Thankfully, Belle visited her father in Avonlea more than the king visited her at the Dark Castle. He remained in a state of nervous agitation — more so than usual — each time she left and didn't find relief until she walked through the front door of the castle and back into his arms.

          Unfortunately, when she chose to visit, she insisted upon taking Baelfire with her. "He needs a chance to get to know his grandfather, Rumpel," she'd explained in that sweetly compelling voice which unerringly sent a delightful shiver down his spine. Only this time, it was icy fear which clutched at his vital organs and squeezed.

          "He's not his grandfather," he'd argued.

          "He's the only one Bae has. If Papa is going to try to be a part of this family, you have to meet him halfway. If Bae doesn't want to return with me after this visit, I am not so demanding I'll force him to do something he doesn't wish to do."

          Considering she had been slowly divesting him of his clothes, his mind had been too muddled with pleasure to argue further. Surprisingly, Maurice had taken an instant liking to Rumpelstiltskin's son, taking great satisfaction in doing things with him he hadn't been able to do with Belle while she'd been growing up. The boy came to cherish his visits with his pseudo grandfather and made Belle promise to visit at least once a month, which brought the king no small measure of satisfaction. At least he didn't hold Baelfire's parentage against the boy, the sorcerer thought with relief.

          His wife and son were happy — he didn't give a rodent's behind for the king's mental state — and therefore he could put forth the illusion that he, too, was happy. In all honesty, he was … except when he was forced to remain behind when his family journeyed to Avonlea. He seriously didn't think it wise to lock himself away in the king's palace for four miserable days a month. He was not known for his generosity nor his patience, but he would suffer through it for her. He would do anything, sacrifice anything, for his beloved Belle.

          He glanced over at his son, sprawled out on the sofa snoring softly. Baelfire was now twenty-five, the youngest to ever have risen to the rank of general in Avonlea's vast army, a dream come true for him. His mind was quick and sharp, and he had a penchant for battle strategy which made many whisper that he was gifted with the  _sight_. In actuality, it was the protection spell he and Belle had woven about their only son to guard him from harm. They'd both been left in a weakened state for nearly a week, completely drained of power, but it was a small price to pay to know their son was safe. Avonlea had few enemies, and it wasn't often Baelfire had to put himself in danger to lead his knights, but there was always a chance some harm could befall him. That was a risk Rumpelstiltskin would not take after all he'd gone through to find him and bring him home.

          He turned back to his spinning, his hand gliding over the polished wood of the wheel as he gave it a slow turn. No matter how the king had made amends to Belle, Rumpelstiltskin would never like the man for the simple fact that he'd hurt her. So, he kept his silence as he listened to their playful banter and took tea not far from his sight.

          "And have you decided on a name, my girl?" Maurice asked, his hand beneath hers as it rested on her protruding belly.

          A worried frown marred the imp's brow as he gazed lovingly at his wife. For so long they'd wanted a child of their own, but it had taken ten years for them to conceive. It hadn't been for lack of trying either. Finally, he'd come to the conclusion that their lack of fertility might stem from his deal making, the cost of the magic keeping them from fulfilling their dream and he'd immediately closed up shop. Six months later, she'd come to him in his tower, tears streaming down her face. He'd wondered who he needed to kill for making her so upset. Yet it hadn't been sadness which had her in such a mess, but joy. She was pregnant. And to ensure nothing changed her happy state of impending motherhood, he hadn't answered the first summons to make a deal. He limited his magic to simple tasks and very rarely left her side. Belle did likewise, not knowing how her magic would affect their unborn child. It was an adjustment on both their parts, but somehow, they managed.

          Maurice had not taken the news well. He had been terrified he'd lose his daughter to childbirth — especially the birth of a magical child — the same as he'd lost his wife. Winter, upon hearing the news had been ecstatic and promised she would be there the moment Belle went into labor to lend any assistance she could offer. The enchantress was happier now that she had taken Regina under her tutelage, and the former evil queen flourished under her guidance. She seemed more the soft-hearted girl he'd met so long ago before he'd taken her as his apprentice, white magic helping her to grow into her full potential rather than the dark magic he'd taught her. It had been a struggle for her, but she'd overcome her fear and doubts and finally let go of her bitterness to become someone he and Belle could now count among their few friends. She'd even found love again.

          Who would have ever thought it would come in the form of a certain outlaw? It had come as quite a surprise to the occupants of the Dark Castle to learn Robin had lost his wife. The feuding between the outlaw and the Sheriff of Nottingham had escalated to the point where Marian had gotten caught in the crossfire, taking an arrow meant for her husband and losing her life in the process. He'd come to Rumpelstiltskin for help, but it was Baelfire who had lent his assistance, his forces easily outnumbering the sheriff's. The sheriff had died by Robin's own hand and Sherwood had returned to peace and prosperity, the outlaw's lands and holdings returned to him, but it hadn’t made his loss any easier to bear. It was one of his visits to the Dark Castle where he'd met Regina which had turned things around for him.

          That had been three years ago. Now his former apprentice was ensconced in Locksley castle with her true love and happily married, content and joyful to have overcome so much, her heart healed and free to love again. Winter had been sad to see her go, but happy for her protégé either way.

          Belle caught his eye and smiled as she continued the conversation with her father. "We've thought of a few …"

          "… that we're unable to agree upon," Rumpelstiltskin interjected dryly.

          "… but we haven't been able to decide," she finished, inching forward awkwardly to the edge of the sofa to pour herself another cup of tea. Her husband was there before her hand could touch the pot, gently pushing her back and pouring more of the brew into her cup. "Rum, darling, I think I'm more than capable of pouring tea," she snapped irritably. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid!"

          They'd had this argument before and knew better than to let her waspish behavior unsettle him. Instead, he sat next to her and drew her back against his chest, his nimble fingers caressing her lower back. "Just relax, dearest. Stress isn't good for you  _or_  the baby."

          "Neither is your constant hovering," she murmured, the heat having left her petulant tone as relief from the ache washed through her. It was by sheer force of will she'd kept the pain she'd been experiencing all day from leaking through their bond. He'd have banished her to their bed to rest for the remainder of the day and she'd much rather spend that time with her father and Baelfire. The boy really didn't come home often enough.

          The king chuckled at their banter. "He's just trying to look out for you, daughter. As it should be."

          Belle shifted, pressing back more firmly into Rumpelstiltskin's probing fingers, hoping the pressure he was exerting would help. "Belle, what is it? Are you in pain?" he asked, his lips grazing against her temple.

          "I'm nine months pregnant, Rumpel. I'm bloody well miserable and it cannot be helped. I promise I'll be fine," she assured him.

          Sarah glanced up from her embroidery and cocked a brow, recognizing the signs Belle was trying so valiantly to hide. Her own son was out in the barn with Marcus, the boy taking advantage of being outdoors. Four-year-old Michael had added new life to the castle, but a more mischievous child she'd never seen. Belle shot her a warning look to hold her tongue. She shrugged, realizing it was pointless to argue when it would just cause her friend distress.

          The front door of the castle banged open — no easy feat for such a reinforced barrier — with the force of a canon blast. The mage was on his feet in an instant, the doors leading into the Great Hall already opening before him as he rushed to see who dared intrude upon his home. Winter nearly collided with him as she charged through the open entrance, her eyes wide and excited.

          "Winter!" he growled, catching her by her upper arms before she barreled into him.

          She ignored him, her eyes searching out the room to land on Belle. "Belle, dearie, how are you? I came as soon as I could."

          "Tea time was an hour ago," Rumpelstiltskin deadpanned, releasing the enchantress.

          "Not tea, you dolt!" she exclaimed, her wide smile blinding as she moved to Belle's side. "She's in labor." She showed him the glowing amulet in her outstretched palm, the same one she'd enchanted to let her know the moment Belle's pains began.

          Rumpelstiltskin paled visibly beneath his golden scales. "Now?!"

          Belle cursed softly as his high-pitched tone reverberated through the room. "Thank you, Winter," she retorted.

          "When were you planning to tell us? After the babe arrived?" he snarked, rushing to her side and sweeping her up into his arms.

          Maurice bounded to his feet and wrung his hands nervously. "Someone needs to go for the doctor … or the midwife … or …"

          "Papa, now is not the time to panic," she called over her husband's shoulder as he bore her from the room.

          "I can't think of a better bloody time!"

          Baelfire sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What's going on?"

          "Your stepmother has gone into labor," the king explained. He sat down heavily on the sofa, his eyes wide and unblinking as worry settled over him like an ominous black cloud. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his daughter, too, not after everything they'd been through.

          Baelfire opened the cabinet which held a myriad of treasures his father had collected in his many deals and dug into the far back. "Aha!" he chortled, opening the jug of fire whiskey and pouring two tumblers, handing one to his grandfather. "Here, Grandpa, this might help."

          "Lad, you better bring the jug and hope you have another hidden somewhere close by."

 

*.*.*

 

          "How can you be so calm?" Rumpelstiltskin bellowed, kicking their bedroom door wide enough to allow him to carry her inside and set her down gently on the bed. Sarah and Winter followed behind them. The enchantress immediately set about helping Belle out of her rose-colored gown while the younger woman fetched a cotton nightdress from the wardrobe.

          "Rumpel, you're panicking for nothing. Women have babies every day. You act as though I'm creating magic which has never been attempted before," she growled, grinding her teeth as another sharp pain radiated along her lower back.

          He cupped her face in his large hands and pressed a kiss to her brow. "You are, my Belle. It's not just any child you're having, but  _our_ child … one we never thought we'd have. I don't think it's so outrageous for me to be a bit worried."

          "She's going to be fine, Imp," Sarah said, handing Winter the nightdress and scooping Belle's gown from the rug to set aside for the laundry. "She  _is_  immortal. Not like she's going to cock up her toes and say ‘goodbye cruel world’."

          "Not helping, dearie," Winter sing-songed, biting back a smile. "Rum, now would be a good time to fetch the doctor, I think."

          He cast Belle a long-suffering look. "But that means I have to go to Longborne. And what good is a dwarf going to do?!"

          Belle reached for his hand after she'd leaned against the mountain of pillows supporting her back. "Rumpelstiltskin!" she admonished. "If he was good enough to deliver the little princess to Snow and Charming —"

          "How the hell does that make him a qualified physician?!"

          "— then he's good enough to deliver our child. Besides, Granny is a highly qualified midwife and she promised to come along with him. I will be in good hands," she promised, her tone even and calm. Her husband was upset enough for the both of them.

          He opened his mouth to protest further, only to snap it shut as he received a sharp look from each of the women. "Fine! No one listens to me anymore." The mage disappeared in a thick cloud of purple smoke to reluctantly fetch Doc and Granny.

          "Thank the Gods!" Winter exclaimed, sitting next to Belle on the edge of the bed and placing her hands on her belly, a faint lavender glow enveloping them. "You would think he was the one having the babe." She concentrated for a moment and then smiled. "Everything is fine, dear. Just try to relax and let nature take its course."

          "Easy for you to say," Belle snarked, bearing down on Sarah's hand as she tried to breathe through another pain in her back. "I thought the contractions were supposed to be in my abdomen."

          "I had them in my back, too, Belle. Believe me, soon you'll feel like you're being clenched in a vise," Sarah huffed, a weak smile curving the corners of her mouth.

          "Thanks for that."

 

*.*.*

 

          A platter of roasted boar hit the polished wood floor as the Dark One poofed into the dining hall of the White palace, the serving girl's shrill shrieks nearly deafening him.

          Nine-year-old Emma was the first to recover her shock, sliding out of her seat and rushing forward to greet him. "Uncle Rumpel!" she cried excitedly, throwing her thin arms around his waist and embracing him tightly.

          His large amber eyes warmed considerably as he wrapped an arm about her shoulders and returned her hug. "Hello, pet."

          "How long can you stay?"

          "…"

          "Where's Auntie Belle?"

          "…"

          "Why didn't she and Bae come with you?"

          "…"

          "Did she have the baby yet?"

          "Emma, perhaps if you would stop with the questions, he might be able to tell us why he's here," Charming said with an apologetic look at the imp.

          "Belle's in labor. She sent me to bring Doc and Granny to the Dark Castle to attend her," he rushed to say, his green-gold skin sallow with suppressed worry.

          "Mama can we go too?" Emma asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her excitement.

          "Let me grab my bag," the diminutive doctor said, nodding as he left the dining hall to gather his supplies. Granny did likewise, and Rumpelstiltskin groaned aloud at the delay.

          "Emma, I don't think—"

          "Pleaseeeeeee!" she whined, her large emerald eyes shining luminously. She was well versed in getting her way and would use every ploy in her arsenal. "I want to see the new baby, Mama."

          Snow turned her gaze on Charming, leaving the decision in his capable hands. "Er … well … um. Ask your uncle," he said hurriedly. He didn't want to disappoint his daughter, yet he was hesitant to invite them all to the Dark One's home.

          "I don't give a damn if the entire kingdom shows up on my doorstep as long as Belle gets the help she needs," he snapped in frustration.

          The doctor and midwife returned in moments, taking their time. Babies – especially a first – would be in no hurry to make its grand entrance. Rumpelstiltskin was not of the same opinion, grabbing them both by the collar and whisking them away on a wisp of magic.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin took turns glaring at the door to his bedchamber and trying to get past Baelfire to get inside. "They will call you if they need you, Papa," the boy said for the umpteenth time. "Why don't we go back downstairs and have a drink?"

          "I'm not meeting my child for the first time reeking of whiskey, Baelfire!" he growled.

          The Dark One was still bristling about being locked out of his chambers while his precious wife was on the other side of the door emitting sounds no woman should ever make. She sounded as if she was being tortured. She sounded like she was suffering the agonies of the damned. He raised his hand to blast the door from its hinges only to have his son step in front of him and shake his head.

          "You promised Mama you'd not resort to violence," he warned. "She needs all of her strength to get through this. She doesn't need to worry about what mischief you might be up to."

          "Never again."

          "Never again what?" his son asked curiously.

          Rumpelstiltskin resumed his pacing, mumbling under his breath in an agonized whisper. "I'll never touch her again."

          Baelfire had the nerve to laugh heartily at that. "Sure, Papa."

          "Why is it every woman in the blasted castle can be in there and I can't?" he asked petulantly. "What if something happens? She needs me!"

          "Papa —"

          "Oh, shut it! The only reason you're even up here is because you couldn't take Emma's excited prattling any longer. Go, have a drink, a nap, or whatever and leave me to my misery," he groaned, raking a hand through his wild curls. "I didn't have to go through this with your mother. I came home from the war and you were already two months old."

          "Papa, she's going to be alright," Baelfire smiled, wrapping a comforting arm about his father's shoulders. "She's the strongest woman I know."

          "But it's been hours! She can't bloody well take much more."

          "These things take time."

          Before he could answer, another blood-curdling shriek pierced the air and he paled. But it was nothing compared to the panic he felt when silence greeted his ears. Time seemed to have frozen, not a sound issuing from behind the closed door. Life returned to his lithe frame as a lusty wail permeated the corridor and he slumped in relief, pounding on the door.

          Winter opened the door, looking weary and wrinkled as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Congratulations!"

          Sarah emerged from the room, the babe wrapped snugly in the hand-knitted white receiving blanket he'd made for his child. She smiled warmly, tears sparkling in her hazel eyes as she placed her precious cargo in his arms.

          He stared at her dumbly. "Belle? How is —"

          "She's fine, dearie," Winter assured him. "Exhausted, but fine. You can see her as soon as we get her all cleaned up. For now, say hello to your daughter."

          Baelfire reached out, running the tip of his finger along the babe's downy cheek. "I have a sister," he breathed, his voice filled with awe.

          "A daughter." Tears flowed freely down the Dark One's face, and he didn't care who witnessed it. His Belle was well, and he was holding the little bundle of love they'd wanted so desperately for so long.

          Snow came out of the room, followed by Granny and Doc. "Congratulations, Rumpelstiltskin," she told him, dropping a light kiss to the child's brow. "She's beautiful."

          He nodded, unable to take his eyes from his daughter's perfect features long enough to find the words to thank her. She led Baelfire and the others back to the Great Hall to share the news with Emma, Charming and Maurice, leaving only Sarah alone with Belle. It wasn't long before she was beckoning him inside and leaving him to be with his wife and daughter, claiming she needed to see to their guests. He peeked into the room, trying to be quiet in case Belle was sleeping, pleased when he saw she wasn't.

          "Hey," she called weakly, her eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. She was propped up on her pillows and covered with a warm blanket.

          "Hey," he answered, rocking the baby gently in his arms as he moved to sit beside her on the bed, careful not to jostle her. "Are you alright?"

          "Course I am, silly. I told you before you were worried for nothing," she chuckled softly, cupping his cheek in her warm palm. "I can already feel my body healing. With a little rest, I'll be as good as new in no time."

          He laid their daughter on her chest and leaned over to place a soft kiss to her lips. "I love you so much, my Belle. If something had happened to either of you —"

          "I love you, too." Belle cradled the babe in her right arm and lifted her fingers to press to his lips. "You seem to forget I'm immortal. Bad habit, that. I'm not going to leave you, Rum," she vowed.

          "She's a little treasure," he whispered reverently, stroking his fingertips over the fine patch of chestnut curls on his daughter's head. Dark sable eyes stared up at him, so like her brother's, and her little rosebud mouth was pursed in a silent moue. "What are we going to call her? It would be nice to give her a name, don't you think?" he quipped.

          Belle giggled, giddy with happiness despite the aches which wracked her body. "Yes, names are important. It must be something special … a name to reflect all of us."

          "Lilith is nice. I always liked that name."

          Belle shook her head, chewing thoughtfully on her bruised bottom lip. "I have it … Keira Isolde."

          "Lovely. I suppose it has a meaning?"

          "Dark beloved. Our love helped you to find your humanity. It taught you to love again and hold the darkness at bay, and brought love and joy into our lives. She is a product of our love … the darkness and the light … it's perfect."

          "Aye, love, that it is," he agreed, pressing another kiss to her lips and one to his daughter's brow. He stretched out on the bed beside her, watching as his daughter nursed, finding no greater joy than that which his family brought him.

          Rumpelstiltskin didn't know what he'd ever done grand enough to deserve his precious wife and children, but he was nevertheless grateful. He had the joy and peace so few ever attained and his heart felt light as a contented smile curved his thin lips. To think none of it would have been possible had it not been for a meddling enchantress, a deal and a few dozen love letters.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, my darling dearies, that is all. I so hope you enjoyed the ending. I want to thank you all for your support during the writing process.


End file.
